Someone to name Friend
by DragonEyeZ
Summary: After being brought out of an orc camp and nursed back to health, Legolas gains a new friend. Notice that this story contains very, VERY mild Slash! Chapter 21 finally added.
1. Chapter 1: Rescue

A/N: I was bitten by a truly insane plotbunny, and it would allow me no rest at all until this story had been committed to paper (or bytes, depending on how you look at it..). As for each and every grammatical and linguistic error, I'm the only person to be yelled at… If you wish to see more of this story, don't forget to leave a review! It's what keeps the bunny alive.

Nothing in this chapter belongs to me - all are the property of Tolkien.

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**Someone to name Friend**

Chapter 1: Rescue

His arms pained from their position above his head, the rope around his wrists keeping his body so high over ground that he could barely reach the earth with his toes – much less take off any of his weight to ease the only increasing pain in his arms.

He could feel blood from the leash-wounds slowly seeping through his tunic, running down his back and his legs to form small puddles where his toes could brush the ground.

Legolas, the proud son of Thranduil, known as one of the finer warriors of Mirkwood, felt that his title had a foul taste to it, caught as he was at the moment in the hands of orcs. He had foolishly called out, renouncing himself as prince of the forest, and ordering the orcs to retreat. Not long in the battle, he had been knocked from his horse when it fell into a well-concealed trap – none of the elves had expected the orcs to have made an ambush – and he had been knocked unconscious in the fall, only to have awakened while being brought to the camp. What had happened to the rest of his comrades, he could only guess.

He had no idea of how long he had hung from the tree, surrounded by the grim sounds of orcs laughing and grunting at each other – with the occasional scream from someone getting too close to a bigger orc. His eyes had been blindfolded, forcing the elf to reply solely on his ears and sixth sense to tell whenever any orc came close.

He shifted, again moving his toes over the ground in the search of a foothold, however small, only to find a leash clipping his leg painfully, drawing another red gash of blood along with the many others that already marred his thighs. Legolas bit his lip forcefully as the agony exploded through him, stubbornly denying the orc behind him the pleasure of screaming in pain.

An irritated grunt sounded, and then the whip cracked again, this time striking hard against his back. Only the faintest of whimpers escaped the Wood elf, though he could hear even that made the foul creature laugh gleefully.

It seemed to just be for the fun of it, as the leash touched his back again - as the previous times, bringing a small piece of cloth and skin with it as it recoiled from his flesh – before the orc made some form of grunting noise and stomped away.

Letting out a soundless breath, the elf slowly wondered how long it would take him to bleed to death if the twisted beings continued their torture of him – he already felt weak and hopelessly tired, and knew it were the first signs of bloodloss.

Inevitably, it lead him to think of any possible forms of rescue that would be close, even if it were a method of slay himself. Anything, he thought, than being dragged with the orcs to horrors he dared not imagine, or to be traded as puny goods for a favour from his father.

Suddenly remembering that he had been meant to meet up with Aragorn, he felt a stone of dread drop into his stomach – what if the orcs were to meet the company of his human friend? The elves he had travelled with had all been able warriors; yet, it appeared that the battle had been lost.

At least, the elven prince thought with a grim smile, it seemed each elf had taken twenty or thirty orcs with him to the grave. With the apparent state of mild confusion the camp currently was in – judging from what he could hear – only a handful of the foul beings remained, and, perhaps, would not pose as great a threat to Aragorn and his men as they had to the elven party.

Again, he heard the stomp of boots closing in on his position, though this particular orc did not appear to favour the whip. Instead, it moved close enough for the elf to feel the warmth of its disgusting breath, before it swung a mail-clad fist at his unprotected stomach.

Taken aback by the abrupt strike, the elf's first instinct was to attempt and curl up, yet partly his bonds and partly his own weight restricted him, and he found himself unable to relieve the pain in any way. The orc laughed harshly, a sound that reminded him of stones grating against each other, before another blow fell on him, this time striking the side of his face and dropping him into the blissful numbness of unconsciousness.

It was not until far later that he awoke, his head spinning and his entire body aching with pain. As he moved, a jolt of agony shot through him, and he realised that he had been used as a punching bag while unconscious. With a light shock, he realised that he could not feel his right leg – had it not been because he still had feeling in the left leg and thusly could tell that the other limb was still attached to his body, it could just as well have been cut off.

Taking a few, steadying breaths, trying to make his mind work through the red haze that lay over it, he suddenly realised that the usual sounds of the camp were gone, instead replaced with odd sneers and hollering – though it was not sounds that came from anywhere near him.

Desperately wishing his eyes had not been covered, Legolas tilted his head, attempting to hear what the possible cause of the orcs' joy was – praying to the Valar that it was not Aragorn or any other elves who had been captured. He could hear a light voice scream out in pain, the cheering of the orcs rising to a crescendo and then everything suddenly went dead still.

Frowning, the Mirkwood elf could pick up the faint scent of burned flesh. Then, just as he had determined the odd smell, the orcs broke into screams instead of cheers, and, from what he could hear, broke into a mad run as well.

Melodious words from a tongue he did not understand flew through the air, following by an odd crackling as from a great bonfire, shortly followed with a thickening scent of meat burned and the agonized cries of dying orcs. Cheering in his heart, the elf realised he did not really care what was going on – the important thing to him was that the orcs were dying.

Then, almost all of a sudden, the camp went eerily still, apart from the thud of a body hitting the ground not too far from him. Legolas strained his ears, trying to catch the sound of horses, of armour, of anything that could tell who and what had attacked the orc camp, and hoped the persons had not died in the rush as well.

He picked up the faint sound of soft boots over the abused grass, far too soft steps to belong to any orc, and then the person was at his side. Though he could not see, he could feel the person pressing against him as he or she reached up, working the rope holding the wood elf's arms up.

As it snapped free, his arms fell to his side, feeling as heavy as were they made of iron, and he found himself falling backwards as he was unable to keep his balance. Yet, gentle hands caught him, softening his fall and instead guiding him to the ground.

At that moment, blood decided to rush back into Legolas' numb arms, bringing with them an intense pain, and he could feel the wounds on his back start bleeding again. His head spinning, he barely registered it as he dropped back into unconsciousness, the events he had been through finally catching up with him.


	2. Chapter 2: New friend

A/N: I own only the type of elves that don't normally run around Middle Earth.

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Chapter 2: New friend 

The first thing registering on his mind was the quiet chirping of a sparrow as it called for its mate, then the slow realisation that he was lying down. Thirdly, that though his body ached, it was not the intense pain he had experienced before, and that someone had apparently carefully cleaned and wrapped up his wounds.

Slowly, Legolas opened his eyes, immediately regretting the move as sunlight flooded them and overwhelmed his vision. Blinking, the elf turned his gaze from the sky to the ground, watching as his surroundings came into view.

He was still in the forest, he saw, but it did not appear he was close to the orc camp – the grass was simply too untouched for orcs to have been near it. Lying for a few moments, watching a lazy bumblebee flutter its way through the grass in search of a flower or two, he realised that he could smell the scent of broth boiling.

Turning to his other side, trying to not disturb the bandages that had been carefully lain over the cuts and bruises he had received, he saw the source of the, to him, wonderful scent. Over a small, merry fire crackled not far from him, supported by three thin iron poles, a pot was boiling, its contents being monitored by…

Legolas blinked, wondering for a moment if he was still stuck to the tree, and was merely dreaming this. The creature tending the boiling food appeared from his current position as elven, and he was positive it was male, but, unlike what he had seen on other elves, the hair appeared to be almost completely white, turning to a very faint, blue colour as it neared the end of the near-waist length hair. Yet, it was the skin that surprised him the most, for, unlike the elves he knew of, the skin of this one was not pale nor glowing with the light of the Valar. Instead, it had a light brown tan, darker than what a human in these parts could achieve, yet not as dark as the skin of a Haradrim.

Seeming to sense his awakening, the brown elf looked over his shoulder, and Legolas found his eyes met with an intensively blue gaze. Definitely elven, he concluded with a small shock when he spotted the pointed ears and slender features, while the other turned to scoop some of the warm broth into a bowl, and crossed the distance between him and the lying Wood elf.

Legolas moved to sit up, trying to ignore the pain in his back as his wounds were stretched along with his muscles, when the foreign elf slid a strong hand around his shoulders and easily hoisted the other elf into a sitting position. Surprised, Legolas took the bowl as it was placed in his hands, and, flashing him a broad smile, the stranger rose to his feet and returned to the fire.

Blinking, and realising that this had to be the same person who had wrapped his wounds, the Mirkwood elf found himself wondering if the same elf had also been the one causing the amount of havoc he had heard. However, he decided that if the other elf had had any intention of harming him, he would not have been treated with such friendliness, and suddenly feeling ravenous, began eating.

"More?" the dark elf asked with a bemused smile and in a quite melodious voice, as he gestured towards the pot hanging over the fire.

Though he still felt weak and tired, Legolas knew it would not be wise to stuff his stomach with food so soon, and shook his head.

"No thanks, mellon-nin," he replied, seeing another amused smile cross the features of the other.

The dark elf removed the pot from the fire, instead picking up a smaller one, containing water, as well as a few pieces of clean cloth – extracted from the depths of a worm backpack - and moved over to Legolas' side.

"_Tha'kka eniita_," he explained, making a small gesture with the cloth in his hands. "Wounds, clean."

Blinking a few times, before he realised that this elf did not speak the common tongue fluently, Legolas nodded and shifted his weight forward, feeling the other settle behind him.

Gentle fingers moved over his skin, unwrapping the bandages and carefully peeling the pads of cloth from the wounds, before examining their state. Legolas closed his eyes, remembering the pain from each when he had received them. Yet, there was no pain in the soft touch from the other elf, and it suddenly struck the elf for how long he had been with the orcs – he had completely forgotten how a friendly touch felt.

His mind drifted back to the time where he had travelled with the Fellowship, of the many hardships they had seen there, and, relaxed by the feel of gentle fingertips massaging the edges of a wound to ensure it would heal as fast as possible, found himself remembering the celebrations following the crowning of Aragorn and the marriage between the Dunédain and Arwen.

With a gasp, he suddenly recalled that Aragorn had been on his way to Mirkwood for a visit, and nearly jumped to his feet, had a pair of hands on his shoulders not kept him down.

"How long was I unconscious!" he demanded to know, turning halfway around to look at the stranger behind him.

"_Getikka_," the other replied, holding up three fingers and doing a gesture towards the sun that Legolas interpreted as sunsets.

Pausing for a short moment, understanding dawning on the Wood elf, he realised that though the stranger had replied in this odd tongue-twisting language, he had clearly understood what Legolas had said.

"You understand what I'm saying…?" he slowly asked in wonder, receiving a confirming nod. "But.. you don't speak the common tongue?"

"Not much. _Mei trakelli._ Enough," the dark elf said with a light grin. "Not speak much, but know enough."

Legolas smiled, feeling slightly relieved by the fact that they could understand each other, though he was still worried that he had apparently been out cold for three days, and spent an unknown amount of time with the orcs. It suddenly struck him that he had no idea of where they were, nor how far they were from the orc camp.

He felt a sting in his right leg and reached down, scratching it through the cloth of the trousers he wore - which also made him aware of the fact that it was not his own clothes. Looking down, he noticed that they were of the same cut and type as those the dark elf wore.

A dark hand patted his shoulder, before the stranger rose and returned to the fire, having finished the cleaning and redressing of Legolas' wounds. He returned minutes later, carrying a simple shirt akin to the same as his own. Carefully, he aided Legolas in putting it on, making sure his bandages were undisturbed.

"What happened to my own clothes..?" the mirkwood elf queried, looking up at the other.

In return, his new-found friend trotted over to a pile of dirty clothes that he apparently had used to make a few of the bandages, and returned, carrying a piece of clothing that could only be described as shredded.

"Leg thick – cuts _hal, _bad," he explained, showing on his own leg the size Legolas' apparently had swollen to while he was unconscious. "Only knife get off _fraél_."

Understanding, Legolas nodded, looking at the torn leggings. Though he could see where the dark elf had used the knife to cut them off him, he could also see the many tears that had been made by the whips and knives he had been tormented with. Unconsciously, he closed his eyes and shivered, all too clearly recalling the pain the orcs had brought on him.

However, a gentle hand under his chin, tilting his head up, withdrew him from his thoughts, and he looked into those strange blue eyes of his new companion.

"Safe now," the dark elf softly said, smiling lightly. "No _yrch_ come."

At Legolas' light nod, the stranger's smile widened, before he rose again and returned to the fire.

The Wood elf watched him leave, suddenly realising that he had no idea why he had been saved by this foreign-looking elf in the first place. He recalled the scream he had heard, not long before he had been cut down from the tree, and wondered idly if it had been his new friend who had been hurt by the orcs. Which inevitably lead him to wonder how a single person could have defeated the entire orc camp alone, and, if there had been more people, where the rest were.

Could it be, he wondered, that it had been a larger group who had attacked the orcs, and afterwards travelled on, leaving but this dark elf behind to take care of Legolas? Though it was quite possible, and the most likely explanation as to how he had been brought safely out of the orcish camp, it still did not explain why but a single person would have remained behind.

In every group that Legolas had travelled with in his immortal life, he knew that they would always bring any wounded people with them, or let at least a large portion of the party behind to defend their makeshift camp against enemies.

The only explanation to that could be that the dark elf HAD been in a party, but most of the others, if not all, had been killed while fighting the orcs. If the stranger spoke truth, then three days would have been enough time to bury any bodies – though, if that was the case, it seemed odd to him that his friend did not appear to have any visible wounds of any kind.

Maybe, he briefly wondered, there were more than one person left behind in the camp, but the others were out and about at the moment. But, that idea seemed unlikely to him, as he could only see equipment enough in the camp that a single person would be able to carry. If he was to trust his logic and not his knowledge, this elf was travelling alone.

Looking up at the sky, half-hidden by the thick foliage of the trees above him, Legolas' thoughts swirled around his head. All signs pointed at there being only this single elf, yet that would not explain how the orcs had been defeated. Were there more people, it seemed very odd that there was no trace of them anywhere, unless they had gone ahead to fetch a healer or something like that. Yet, if that was so, then why could he not see any signs of horses or other people?

He rubbed his eyes, feeling a heavy headache start to form as every theory he came up with had too many flaws. There was always a single piece missing from the puzzle, though, despite his attempts, he seemed unable to find that missing piece. The only explanation, he thought at end, that could solve it all, was if this dark elf was a warrior unlike anything else that Arda had seen. Though, he concluded, as he glanced around the make-shift camp, that would not explain the noticeable lack of weapons.

"Mellon?" he called softly, immediately drawing the attention of the dark elf, who came to sit by his side. "How did you get me out of the orc camp?"

His friend grinned.

"_Yrch_ not like fire," he chuckled. "_Yrch_ run fast on fire."

Legolas frowned, looking at the other elf with confusion. Though it was a known fact that most things, including orcs, would flee if they were on fire, it did not explain how the whole orc camp had been defeated.

Apparently sensing the mirkwood elf's confusion, the stranger held out his hands, balling his fists together. As Legolas watched, a tiny light seemed to start within those hands, and, before his very eyes, the dark elf slowly moved his hands apart, revealing a small, floating spark between his palms. As his hands moved further from each other, Legolas saw the spark increase in size, until it formed a tiny globe of fire that hung freely in the air between the dark hands.

"_Yrch_ not like fire," the dark elf grinned, closing his palms around the fire and extinguishing the glow. "Run very fast."


	3. Chapter 3: Respite broken

A/N: Every character that you can look up in Silmarillion and Lord of the Rings belongs to the mighty Tolkien. The other characters are my little inventions.

A great thanks to all the reviewers. Don't forget, the more reviews I get, the faster I'll most likely post! I got up to chapter 8 written ahead, so I can hopefully keep up this pace...

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Chapter 3: Respite broken

Using a hand to shade his eyes against the sunlight, Legolas nervously glanced up the tall tree. Though he had been under the care of the dark elf for nearly four days, not counting in the three days he had spend unconsciously, his leg had not yet fully healed, and he could only limp very short distances, even with the usage of the crutch the dark elf had made for him.

However, that had not prevented Mel, as Legolas had taken to call his dark-skinned companion, from deciding they ought to have apples for their lunch. Or _yelli_, as apples seemed to be called in his own tongue. And now, Mel was high up one of the tallest trees in the forest, fully determined to pick the ripe apples hanging at the edge of the branches in the neighbouring apple-tree – although the apple-tree grew on top of a small hill, it was surrounded by thick bushes, all sporting inch-long thorns that easily could dig deep into elven flesh.

Swallowing nervously, thinking that even wood elves would have thought twice before attempting a move such as this, Legolas watched his friend hang on to a single, thin branch, and lean out to grab the apples with the other hand, shoving them into the small bag around his neck.

"Be careful!" Legolas called in warning, wincing as Mel slipped for a split second, and nearly plummeted to the ground.

"_Genarli takkanari, _Leglas!" the merry voice called from the treetop, before Mel, undaunted by the fact that he had nearly fallen the fifty feet to the ground, leaned even more out to get his hands on a particularly ripe apple.

Unable to keep a smile from crossing his face, Legolas shook his head to himself, watching the enigma of an elf he had named as a friend finish the plucking, and begin his down climb.

Once safely on the ground, he helped Legolas to his feet and, with the wood elf leaning onto Mel for support, they returned to their small camp. Settling down by the small fire that Mel devotedly kept burning, Legolas speared his apple on a stick and began roasting it over the flames, letting his mind travel while his dark friend skinned the rabbit he had caught earlier the same day.

Although Mel had told he came from the far south, he had not been willing to tell much else about himself or why he had ventured this far away from his home. He had not even told his name, instead informing Legolas that it was a past he did not like, and that he much preferred the name he had been given by the Mirkwood elf.

"Leglas?" the melodious voice asked, startling the wood elf from his thoughts. "_ Sakutu y__ae yelliae._"

Blinking once, not understanding the words spoken, but when Mel nodded downwards, Legolas looked at his stick, and quickly removed it from the fire when he saw that his apple not only had been roasted, but was, in fact, burning at the moment. The dark elf's merry laughter rang over the small glade that their camp was placed in, as he watched the Mirkwood elf desperately try and extinguish the flames that were trying to devour his apple - nearly setting himself on fire at the same time. However, Legolas' attempts proved to be too much for the already burned stick, and he could only watch as his blackened apple fell off along with the end of the stick, dropped to the ground, and rolled into the fire where it settled a small way under one of the burning logs.

"Leglas not apple-friend," Mel chuckled, tossing a lukewarm, toasted apple to the wood elf while shaking his head to himself. "_Nai vena velli._"

Sticking out his tongue at the amused Mel, Legolas found himself fighting hard to contain his own laughter. Surely, it had to have been fun to watch him being too lost in his thoughts to notice his own lunch was being fried, and had Mel not interrupted his thinking, he would probably not have noticed anything until the fire had burned the stick completely.

Grinning, Legolas bit into the warm apple while Mel speared more of the fruits and placed them over the fire along with the now clean rabbit. The wood elf had long since noticed that Mel carried nothing that had any resemblance with lembas, but instead lived off what he could find in the wilds.

They had managed to cross a few miles on foot, travelling in the general direction of Mirkwood, though Legolas' wounds made it nearly impossible for him to walk, even with the crutch, and Mel was unable to carry him along with the packs. Instead, they settled with what distance they could make a day, though they quite often pushed on to the limits of Legolas' stamina, so they could find a small river to make camp near. Mel seemed quite stubborn when it came to keeping them clean and supplied with fresh water.

As they waited for the meat to roast, Legolas found his mind wandering again, wondering if Aragorn – or King Elessar, as he was more known as these days – had reached the halls of Thranduil by now, if someone had come across the orc camp, and, in particular, if anyone of his party had survived the attack of the orcs. Mel had already searched through the camp after Legolas had been brought to safety, the dark elf had told, yet there had been no trace of other elves. Either the wood elf's party had been slain in the battle or in the camp, or they had managed to escape. Legolas did not even want to consider the possibility that Mel could have lied about elves in the orc camp to spare his mind.

Yet, if his last assumption was true, and the elves had been able to escape, there was a fair chance they had managed to get back to the Mirkwood Halls, and, by now, there was probably a search party out to find him. He could only hope that he and Mel would cross the path of such one.

Suddenly conscious of the feeling of being watched, he withdrew from his thoughts, and found the dark elf watching him with an amused smile.

"Leglas head in sky," Mel sniggered, though his tone told he meant no harm with it.

Smiling apologetic, Legolas accepted the piece of meat he was offered, and apparently had been offered several times without noticing, and ate while letting his mind continue its wanderings.

"_Kakati nelia_?" Mel asked, crocking his head when looking at the wood elf. "You think what?"

"A lot of things," Legolas admitted. "If anyone had gone out to find me, if my friend has arrived where I was supposed to meet him, if we'll meet anyone on our trip…"

"_Tasu_," Mel replied, smiling lightly. Legolas had heard the word often enough to know it meant he did not have to worry. "No people come, to you home I take. _Ekkilan hradi._"

The wood elf smiled, nodding his thanks. He already understood his dark skinned companion well enough to know it meant Mel would take him all the way home, no matter how long it might take them. The thought, he had to admit, comforted him greatly, and though he worried for Aragorn - and Arwen, who he knew would be accompanying the human King - they would have a large escort on the long trip to Mirkwood, and both, he knew from experience, would well handle themselves in a battle. Though it had been years since both King and Queen had been in any serious battles of any kind, he knew both of them would never cease their training unless they had no other choice, and that most of the court of Gondor found it to be a great source of entertainment to see their King and Queen spar within the courtyard. And, according to some rumours, within the halls of the palace itself whenever they were bored.

The sound of a twig snapping made Legolas look up, and he was instantly aware of the clear sounds telling someone was approaching their small camp. Mel has apparently heard the sounds as well, and was now standing on his feet, looking around to catch a glimpse of who was nearing them. Though he knew he would not be of much aid as his leg could not support him, Legolas grabbed the small bow he had made with the help of Mel, and hoped his dark-skinned companion would manage on his own. Though the other elf still held the small knife he had used to skin the rabbit, he did not appear to own any other weapons, and, if he did, had not yet brought them out.

The seconds passed in silence, as the sounds of movement grew around them. Suddenly, without warning, an orc burst through one of the bushes, racing straight for them with its club lifted high. Moving quickly so he was kneeling on his good leg, Legolas let the first arrow fly, dropping the charging orc before it managed to get five feet further.

However, two more immediately broke through the foliage, followed shortly by three others, and though Legolas could take down one more of them, he was unable to stop them all. Instead, Mel exploded into a blur of movement, his fists burning with fire as they struck against every exposed area on the orcs.

The wood elf found his attention drawn to his companion for a moment, noticing that each blow delivered seemed to go through both the orcs' armour and thick hide, sending them reeling back, or fleeing as their clothes and hair caught fire. However, he quickly turned his attention back at the flow of orcs that came from the forest, and tried his best to take down as many as he could, attempting to keep more than three from reaching Mel at a time.

But his makeshift quiver was quickly running out, and still the orcs kept pouring in – though it appeared most of them were reluctant to attack after seeing their kin either die or flee from the fury of the dark elf. Yet, Mel's movements were slowing, and Legolas could see that he was running tired. It seemed as if they were doomed….


	4. Chapter 4: Saviours

A/N: All characters that you have heard of in other places than this story belongs to Tolkien. With credit to SilverWolf7 for letting me borrow Sarn.

Thank you to all those who have reviewed. My bunny wishes to let you all know that it pleases it greatly, although it has hinted of the fact that an increase in the amount of reviews would result in even faster typing.

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Chapter 4: Saviours 

The sudden whiz of an arrow flying through the air was the first thing that alerted him, and for a few seconds, Legolas feared the arrow came from an orc's bow. Yet, as the long, slender arrow struck true within the forehead of one of the larger orcs, Legolas could not keep a wide grin from crossing his face, just about the same time as the first of the riding elves attacked.

The orcs quickly lost their will to continue the attack, suddenly finding themselves trapped between Mel, who still had flames licking his hands, and the elven riders. Within long, the few remaining orcs dropped their weapons and fled, screaming, from the camp, clearly preferring their lives over the glory of battle.

Using the bow for support, Legolas climbed to his feet, flashing a broad grin at the elven riders, who he easily recognized as belong to the guard of Mirkwood. However, his smile quickly vanished when he saw three of the archers draw their bows, arrows aimed at Mel.

The dark elf cast a short glance over his shoulder at the wood elf, as if asking if it was someone he knew, before shrugging and did a short movement with his hands, extinguishing the fire. However, the archers had still not removed their aims from him, though it appeared it was more because they did not quite know what to make of the dark elf.

"It's alright," Legolas called out. "He's a friend."

Slowly, the three elves lowered their bows, though it was clear to all that they were still not entirely comforted.

"Are you well, my prince?" Sarn, the commander of the guard, asked as he slid off his horse and walked towards Legolas, carefully walking past Mel in a safe distance. "We heard that you had been captured by orcs."

"Aye, I am well," the wood elf replied. "The only wounds I have are what I received at the hands of the orc, though those have been taken care of by Mel," he continued, nodding towards his dark companion, who appeared to find the whole situation amusing.

"What.. IS he?" Sarn carefully asked, glancing over at Mel as if studying a rare animal.

"He is my friend and saviour," Legolas replied, suddenly realising that he was not truly aware of what his friend precisely was. However, he decided, it was not important at the moment.

"_Dakkita_," Mel chuckled. "Your kind not nice greet strangers… _Yrch_ be all I hurt."

"In any case," Sarn continued, turning his gaze back at Legolas, seemingly trusting the dark elf to be on their side. "We have been searching for you these last days. It was only by chance we heard the commotion, though, thankfully, it seems we arrived in time."

"If you mean that we're unharmed, then you're correct," Legolas said with a smile. "Are you in for giving us a lift back to the Halls?"

Sarn grinned, scratching his chin as if deep in thought.

"I don't really know," he slowly said, as if truly considering the idea. "We'd travelled for a very long time, and I don't really know if the others would be up for taking two extra persons with them…"

"You want to be used for target practice?" Legolas retorted, fighting hard to keep a smile from showing on his face. He and Sarn had grown up together in the Halls of Mirkwood, and nearly everyone knew that their banter was nothing more than for fun.

"Well, since you're putting it that way, allow me to help you to get onto the horse, my prince," Sarn grinned, his smirk growing wider when Legolas scoffed at the sound of his title.

"Do you want to come with us, Mel?" Legolas asked, looking at the dark elf. "To Mirkwood?"

"_Takalita gelin reasta_," Mel replied with a smile. "I glad go with you."

"Can you ride?" Sarn asked, raising a sceptical eyebrow as he looked at the dark elf.

Legolas had to bite his lip to keep himself from bursting into laughter when Mel gave the elven guard a scowling look that clearly told the dark elf considered him to have just asked the most stupid question in the history of Arda.

"I think that's a 'yes'," one of the other elves sniggered, not as able as Legolas to hide his amusement.

Two spare horses were brought out from the forest, and, after Mel had packed his few belongings, they prepared to set out. Legolas was aided onto one of the horses – a fine, brown mare with an easy spirit. She was a good steed for those hurt, as she would just follow the other horses in the flock. However, as he saw Sarn drag forth one of the younger, wilder stallions for Mel, he felt a slight twinge of worry for his companion.

Sarn apparently believed to have bested the dark-skinned elf, as he smirked while watching Mel attempt to strap his pack onto the back of the animal. However, the horse would have nothing of that, and continuously moved, resulting in the pack falling to the ground.

Yet, before anyone could begin to find it entertaining, Mel walked around the horse, grabbed its head and forced it to look at him. For seconds, they were watching each other, before the stallion, all of a sudden, lowered its head and stood still, waiting for the elf to finish tying the pack to its back.

For the second time within the hour, Legolas found himself sorely pressed to contain his amusement when seeing the disbelieving look on Sarn's face – though the elven guard's eyes only grew bigger as Mel, supporting himself only with a single hand on the tall stallion's back, swung himself onto its back.

"He's good," another of the younger guards whispered to the one next to him, all of the elves clearly finding Sarn's current expression to be one of the more funny things since the day where Thranduil had mistaken the ink for soap, and had spend three days wandering around with blue hair.

Legolas allowed a smile to cross his face, fondly recalling how his father had ensured each and every elf who made fun with his new hair colour had found their soap containing water-proof colours in the shades of green, purple, and, the most dreaded one, pink. Glorfindel, who had been visiting at that time, had refused to leave his room while his skin was still dyed in the fine shocking red colour of cherries and his hair in a beautiful auburn colour.

Legolas could only guess what might happen to Mel's fine, white, colour-accepting hair, should his father decide to pull that trick again…

The camp had been cleared, and Sarn, taking up the lead, spurred his steed into motion, setting the course towards the halls of Thranduil. Mel gave the stallion a light pat on the side of its neck, and it whinnied happily, setting off in a gallop after Sarn. Legolas' mare quickly caught on, and followed in the same pace, while the rest of the elven party formed up behind them.

It took them nearly three hours, riding in the fastest pace the horses could provide in the forest, before the gates to the Mirkwood Palace finally loomed in the horizon.

"_Yakka sharii_!" Mel exclaimed, eyes wide in amazement as he looked at the entry.

"That's my home," Legolas grinned, slowing his steed to a light trot as they neared.

The gates swung open at their approach, allowing entrance into the halls. Though it had been years since Sauron had been defeated once and for all, Thranduil still kept the humongous gates, seeing as they had not yet managed to clear out Mirkwood of the oversized spiders that inhabited it and the randomly passing groups of orcs.

They had barely managed to get inside, before Legolas nearly found himself pulled off the horse by a concerned Aragorn, Thranduil and Arwen. Laughing, he quickly assured them that he, despite his injuries, was well, and would soon be completely healed.

Aragorn, being Aragorn, immediately started fussing over the elf's wounds, while Thranduil was issuing orders left and right for rooms to be readied, the healer's hall alerted, and food to be prepared. The only sane one at the moment, Legolas noted, seemed to be Arwen, who grabbed the arm of one of the guards and made him help the woodelf dismount.

All the while, Mel, staying back from the bulk of the commotion, was watching it all with a light smile and eyes that oddly enough appeared to glow in the dimness of the entry hall. He stood by the head of the stallion he had borrowed, stroking its muzzle, and appeared to be talking to it.

Legolas quickly pulled an arm from where Aragorn was clutching it while blabbering feverishly of how they had feared the worst when getting the message about the orc attack, and waved the dark elf over. Immediately, the people surrounding him turned their eyes to Mel, apparently not having registered the entry of Legolas' dark-skinned friend before.

Mel stopped a few paces from the group, placed a hand over his heart, and made a deep bow that clearly was directed at all of them, before straightening up and taking the final step to join their group. Legolas, very briefly, told his family and friends who the dark elf was, and in particular what he had done for him.

Arwen, almost immediately after hearing that Mel was the one who had brought Legolas out of the orcs' camp and taken care of him, wrapped both arms around the dark elf's neck and pulled him into a bruising hug, all the while thanking him from the bottom of her heart for bringing back the wood elf safely. Mel's expression quickly went from surprised to happy, and he gave Arwen's shoulder a light pat, as if assuring her.

"Leglas _nakatia rea_," he told with a smile. "Need help. I give."

"Leglas?" Aragorn silently mouthed, raising a querying eyebrow .

The wood elf shrugged with a grin. Mel had never really spoken his name correctly, but had, for a reason he had yet to discover, dropped the 'o' in his name. Then again, he had merely called his friend a short form of 'mellon', so he had not exactly found any reason to complain.

"Well, I'm very happy that you saved my son, Mel," Thranduil said with a broad smile. "Will you be staying long?"

"Long as I allowed," the dark elf replied with a light dip of his head at the Mirkwood King.

"Watch it… If you make Ada like you, he'll make you stay until we sail West," Legolas sniggered, undaunted by the fact that he was currently leaning onto both Aragorn and a guard for support.

However, before Mel could manage to reply, they were interrupted by the sound of legs skittering over the stone floor. A huge spider, rising two feet into the air and with a body three feet long – not counting in the legs - came running down the hallway, its palps clicking excitedly against each other as it headed towards Legolas.

"Tarantoun!" the wood elf happily exclaimed, reaching down to scratch the spider's back while it affectionately rubbed its furry head against his knee.

Despite her size, the spider acted more like a dog than a spider, and had always loved to trot at Legolas' heels, ever since she had been allowed into the Halls. She had even taken to go hunting with him and his party, attacking orcs, wargs and other spiders with the same fierceness as the elves and returning to its master for praise. Though Thranduil, in the beginning, had been doubtful about allowing Tarantoun inside, it was a fact that there had never been fewer mice and rats within the Halls as after the spider had moved in… 


	5. Chapter 5: The Ogre in the Basement

A/N: I own the story Legolas tells, Taratoun and Mel. The rest belongs to Tolkien.

As for the questions asked in the reviews: 1) No, Mel isn't a nightelf, but a type of elf that's 99 my own invention. 2) Mel's past will be revealed in parts later on in the story. 3) Yes, Legolas has a pet spider. Sarn was originally named Taratoun, but a friend of mine mentioned that it sounded more like a spider, and thus, Legolas' pet was born. 4) Mel has nothing in common with dark elves from the Forgotten Realms (better known as Drow). Explanation for his looks will follow in a later chapter. 5) Taratoun is the size of a smaller dog. Seeing as the spiders in The Hobbit was trying to eat dwarves, I figured that Taratoun would probably live off a more variated diet consisting of mice and other small animals that might infest a woodland palace.

Returning to the story now…

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Chapter 5: The Ogre in the Basement 

The Hall of Feasting was filled to the point of bursting, though, Legolas concluded with mild amusement, there would probably have been room for many more people, had the elves not decided to dance as wildly as the rumours in Rivendell told they could. Even Arwen and Aragorn were out dancing, trying their best to keep up the fast pace that the musicians had set.

"Legolas? Will you tell us a story?" a small voice asked, and he felt a tug at his sleeve.

Looking down, the Mirkwood prince spotted seven of the younger children standing behind his chair, all watching him with wide eyes. He grinned, turning his chair so he could face them, and lifted the smaller of them onto his lap before he began his story. It was a fairly short one, one he remembered from his own childhood, of the ogre that was supposed to live in the wine-cellar, and constantly was searching the place for the taste of elf-children.

Needless to say, the seven children listened with eyes that grew wider and wider in amazement as the story progressed. Although the story bore no truth what so ever, it had existed for as long as Legolas could remember to keep children from venturing into the dungeons of the palace – anyone who did not know the tunnels well could easily get lost within the twisted maze they formed.

Mel, sitting next to Legolas, was listening as well with a faint smile, and effectively ignoring the three females who were trying, more or less subtly, to seduce the foreign-looking elf. The dark elf had even managed to prevent the women from getting any ideas about sitting down in his lap for attention by pulling Tarantoun up instead, scratching the spider while she was snuggling against his chest and making happy sounds.

Legolas spun an end to his story, telling the final warning that the ogre had so far eluded all attempts on capturing it, but it would still move close to the Hall during feasts, and go hunting for little elves who ventured too far into the cellars. Sensing the story had finished, the group of children dissolved, and some of them joined up with others, who were pestering Thranduil to make him play with them.

Rising to his feet, supported by his crutch, Legolas asked if one of the females would help him to get over to the other side of the dance floor, and thusly managed to lure the three giggling females away, giving his newest friend a short break from their attentions. Arwen and Aragorn were still attempting to keep up with the dancers, though they both had long since given up trying to learn the Mirkwood version, and instead had begun performing a Rivendell version of the same dance.

However, the females, on their crossing of the floor, were quickly offered a dance by more than one of the male elves on the floor – something that they, after a brief look at the wounded prince, accepted. Legolas chuckled, shaking his head lightly, and wondered briefly why it appeared that all unmarried elleth seemed to be hunting everything male and single, as long as the male in question was sufficiently interesting.

Looking back towards the Grand table, however, he found himself blinking in surprise, noticing that Mel's chair was empty, and that Tarantoun was gone was well. Looking around with a light frown, trying to spot his friend, he noticed three small figures silently making their way towards the open door that lead down to the Wine cellar. Had he not been looking for someone, he would never have noticed the children.

Sighing, he grabbed one of the nearby candles, prepared to go tell the children that they were simply not allowed to go into the cellars. Yet, he had only reached the first step leading into the darkness, when a blood-curling mix of a roar and a gurgle rolled through the hallway, shortly followed by a shrill scream from three children. Barely seconds later, Legolas was nearly knocked off his feet as three tiny, adventurous souls came fleeing back up the stairs, screaming about the ogre being after them.

Barely slowing to dodge the adult elf, the children continued out into the hall, crying for their mothers and screaming that they would never enter the cellar again, as long as people would keep the ogre from eating them.

Wondering if, perhaps, there had been some measure of truth in the old tales, though logic told it could not be so, Legolas continued, more carefully down the stairs, holding the candle high to see within the darkness of the cellar. Finely made barrels of wine stood here and there, side by side with row upon row of bottles, all neatly labelled and placed under just the right circumstances to allow the best maturing.

His eyes scanned the seemingly empty cellar, feeling a light twinge of panic swell within him as the flickering light from the candle reminded him of the Mines of Moria, and he wished Gimli had been visiting. The dwarf had always been better at sensing things in the darkness than he was…

Not a single sound betrayed what the children might have seen, nor could he see any shapes that could have resembled a living creature. Nor, he noticed with a light frown, did he see anything that could have made the horrifying sound he had heard.

All that alerted him was a single puff of air from his right, blowing out the candle he held. Immediately, the cellar was plunged into darkness, only lit by the very faint light that filtered down from the Hall through the still-open door. Alerted, Legolas dropped the candle and looked around, trying to see who or what had extinguished his source of light, when the sound of a heavy footstep made his blood freeze within his veins – it was far too heavy to have been made by any elf…

He spun around, ready to break into a mad dash towards the door leading back to the hall, when he found his way blocked by an impossible tall thing, hair like slithering snakes standing out to all sides, and the same blood-curling sound he had heard before issuing from it.

He gave a surprised yelp, being too shocked to cry out for aid, and took a single step back, nearly tripped over the foot of a shelf, and found himself almost hopping backwards. The monstrous thing took a few steps towards him, making a slow, hissing noise as it breathed, and Legolas back-pedalled, trying to find his voice so he could try out for help.

However, before he managed to get that far, he heard an odd sound make its way into the hissing, gurgling breath, and he could see the monster start shaking. Just as he wondered what was happening, the creature exploded into melodious laughter, bent down, and picked up his discarded candle. A single flame appeared, lighting the candle's wick, and the wood elf found merry, blue eyes twinkling at him from a dark face.

Tarantoun happily clicked her barbs together, making an amused sound from where she was seated on the dark elf's shoulders, effectively adding three feet to the elf's height.

"Leglas scaredycat!" Mel sniggered. "Afraid ogre eat him?"

Legolas huffed and stammered, unable to figure out if he should yell at the dark elf, break into laughter, or start planning a horrible revenge.

"Don't scare me like that!" he finally exclaimed, before clutching his stomach and giving in to the laughter that bubbled up within him.

Tarantoun made another happy sound, before stretching and raising her eight legs to form a halo around an imaginary head, and gave out a gurgling sound, that, now that Legolas knew its source, sounded sufficient comical coming from the giant spider that it only resulted in the wood elf to break into even greater sobs of laughter.

Yet, as the three emerged from the cellars again, they saw quite a group of elves had gathered, watching the entrance with wide eyes, as if they had expected an ogre to come out.

"What happened?" Thranduil demanded to know, looking from Legolas to Mel to Tarantoun, though the spider, of course, had no way of answering the question.

"Mel took on the role as ogre to scare the children from the cellar," the Mirkwood prince replied, fighting hard to keep a huge grin from crossing his face. "With Tarantoun acting as its head."

"Well, THAT explains why they were running away as if Sauron himself was after them," another elf muttered in a low voice. "Judging from the speed with which they were running over to their friends to warn them, I'd guess it'll take several years before anyone of them will even THINK about entering that cellar unbidden again…"

"Indeed," Thranduil agreed, thoughtfully scratching his chin. "Quite a successful way to keep them from entering…"

Immediately, the elves closest to him took a step away, all knowing that the sight of the King scratching his chin meant he was conjuring some form of plan that would put even the infamous sons of Elrond to shame. Legolas finally allowed his smile to show, knowing his father, when doing such, had not seen any harm in the joke, but instead was probably planning on how to convert it to be used in other places and with other people.

"I believe it will be difficult to continue the party now," one of the female maids said with a wry smile. "And once we finally get it into full swing again, the rest of the night will have passed. I think we ought to retire to bed, and maybe continue the feast tomorrow. It would also allow Prince Legolas the rest the Healers have prescribed."

Murmurs of agreement passed through the elves, and by shared agreement, they broke up and headed towards their respective rooms. Legolas happily accepted the supporting arm his father offered, and gave his goodnights to Mel, before moving towards his own rooms.


	6. Chapter 6: Mornings

A/N: Sadly, I don't own anything else but a crazed spider and an even wierder dark elf.

My computer went mad and ate the newer version of my story - meaning I'll have to type chapter 7 and onwards once more... Be patient concerning the time of the next update, please.

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Chapter 6: Mornings

The sun rose into the sky, its light filtering through the foliage of the trees outside, and managed to make its way through the curtains hanging before his windows. Blinking sleepily, Legolas watched the flicker of sunrays over the ceiling, before he yawned and sat up, determined to fresh up and head to breakfast. Tarantoun, sleeping in the foot end of his bed, woke up as well, and made a burping sound, as if she asked him if he was serious about getting up already.

"You can sleep on, if you want to," Legolas laughed, affectionately scratching the spider's head as she nestled deeper into the blanket.

Still smiling, he moved out of bed, limping out into the bath chamber and cleaned himself up, feeling a deep pleasure of being able to take a warm bath, rather than having to settle with a small stream or what other supply of water Mel had been able to locate while they had been on the road.

Drying off, careful to not tear open the thin skin that had grown over his wounds, he re-wrapped the bandages and dressed in a simple tunic and breeches. Giving Tarantoun a final pat on the head, and making certain the window was opened so she could leave if she wished to, the wood elf left his bedroom behind and walked down the hallway leading to the Grand Hall, supported by his crutch.

The healers had assured him that his leg would heal fully, and that he would no longer have need of the crutch after a week, though, at the moment, he needed rest and peace to let the torn tissue of the muscle grow back together. Legolas still wondered how many days it would take for him to grow insane with the lack of physical activity he would have to endure. On the road, Mel had managed to be a great source of amusement, and the wood elf had yet to recall exactly how many games they had played.

Smiling, remembering suddenly that the rooms the dark elf had been assigned lay on his road from his own chambers to the Hall, he thought to see if his friend had arisen yet. Stopping by the door, one of the three leading to rooms designated for guests of the King, he lightly rapped the door with a knuckle, then paused and hear the sound of movement within.

"Enter," Mel's melodious voice called, and Legolas pushed open the door, finding himself facing a, though slightly chaotic, clearly inhabited room.

Apparently, the dark-skinned elf had been in the process of unpacking not long ago, as most of his belongings lay on the bed and the floor, carefully sorted to ease their re-packing. The curtains had been withdrawn, allowing the sun to shine in, and Legolas could hear his friend move about within the bath chamber.

"Are you ready?" Legolas called, smiling lightly as he noticed some of Mel's more odd equipment, which included a wicked-looking pair of spikes attached to thick bracers.

"Moment, _karaitka saru_," Mel replied from the bath chamber, followed by the rustle of cloth.

Not long after, the dark elf emerged from the adjoining room, carrying a small bundle of what appeared to be cloth, and dressed in a pair of breeches and a white shirt akin to the others he owned. He nodded in greeting with a light smile, before dropping the bundle onto the bed and searched through his pack, pulling forth a pair of light shoes.

However, Legolas noticed that the bundle had some dark-red spots, and noticing his gaze, Mel shrugged.

"Was hurt. Not bad – healed now. _Yrch_ no good hitters," he explained with a grin, receiving a light nod and a smile from the Mirkwood elf.

Once Mel had finished dressing, moving without any visible pain, Legolas noticed, he followed the woodelf out of the room and in the direction of the dining hall. He walked in a slow pace; allowing Legolas to keep up without problems, and yet with enough speed that the other elf did not feel his pride diminish from slowing down his friend.

"I hope you've enjoyed your stay so far," Legolas said with a smile.

"Yes. People friendly, even to Mel," the dark elf replied with a grin. "Though female elves TOO friendly, think I."

"You're an exotic catch," Legolas admitted, though in his mind he added the adjectives intelligent and beautiful. "We've never seen anyone like you before."

"Kin from south," Mel commented with a light nod. "Far south. Very cold. Mel not usual, have Northern father. Dark skin carry to light skin clan."

"So your father was the reason for why you have dark skin, while the rest of your clan looks like us?" the woodelf asked, blinking in surprise. He had never before heard of any elves living outside Middle Earth, although, of course, Arda was a huge world, and there were plenty of places that he had never visited or heard of.

"Look, act other," Mel replied, frowning as he clearly tried hard to find the words he needed to describe the place he came from. "_Tarn yialuty_, not stranger-friend. Not like new things."

"Afraid of changes," Legolas helped, knowing that the dark elf's vocabulary was expanding every time he said something.

Mel nodded, repeating the sentence and looking to the lighter elf for confirmation on the pronunciation.

"Clan afraid of changes," he continued, pausing a little. "Disliked Mel because of skin-colour, and for Mel's… skills?"

"Abilities."

"Disliked abilities. Not normal. When old enough, thrown out of clan."

"So you were banished from your clan because of your skin and your abilities?" Legolas asked, surprised over the seemingly cruel way Mel had been treated by his people. "That sounds barbaric..."

"As said, clan not like changes. Mel was danger to clan, and clan family. Clan protect family, banish Mel," the dark elf continued with a shrug and a wry smile. "I wander, find friends. Go north, further than father. Seek adventure. Kill _yrch_ and bad people."

"And both I and my father are very glad that you showed up," Legolas replied with a smile.

Mel merely shrugged.

"I do what you do," he said with a grin. "Leglas help many same way. Mel not know much common tongue, but hear rumours still. Big hero, with other of Fellowship."

The woodelf found heat rising in his cheek, and was happy to notice that they were but a very short distance from the dining hall, thusly allowing him to avoid talking further about his accomplishments before, during and after the time of Sauron's fall and while he travelled with the Fellowship of the Ring. He had never particular been fond of telling anything about his accomplishments of any kind, and only discussed the Quest with Gimli or if another from the Fellowship were visiting. As he constantly claimed, he didn't really do anything else than shoot a few orcs – at least not the way that he saw it...


	7. Chapter 7: Interlude

A/N: Everything that rings a bell belongs to Tolkien.

Thank you to all reviewers for sticking with me while I write the story's next chapters. This chapter is short, but the next one should hopefully be up very soon.

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Chapter 7: Interlude

Breakfast was a peaceful affair, and Legolas was very pleased to see that Mel quickly fell into conversation with Mirkwood's main scholar, Orundel. The dark elf sat opposite Legolas, flanked by Arwen to one side and Orundel to the other. Aragorn sat beside Legolas, opposite his wife, while Thranduil took up the other end of the table. At first, the Mirkwood prince thought this seating was slightly odd, but his mild confusion only lasted until the other four began questioning them of where the orcs were, as Sarn's troops had reported of a week-old trace in the forest after a large group of orcs – and Thranduil would not tolerate the foul beings existence.

Legolas quickly found his memory to be faulty, and he could only provide minor information of their approximated whereabouts after he had been brought out of the orc camp – everything else he knew such as the place where the orcs had placed the ambush had already been recounted when the survivors of his party had made it back to the Palace. And so, instead of him, everyone's attention was turned to Mel, as he was the only one who had any idea of where the orc camp had been, and how many orcs that remained within it.

To aid his limited vocabulary, Orundel quickly fetched a fairly large map over the Mirkwood and rolled it out over the table in front of the dark elf. Using Legolas' knowledge of the terrain, they quickly calculated the approximated area in which Sarn and his party had found them, and Legolas could see how Mel thought as he watched the map. Leaning forward, the dark elf placed a single finger on the map, tapping a small glade near the border of the forest.

"_Yrch_ camp here," he said, then moved his finger slightly deeper into the wood. "Here Mel capture. When take Leglas out, go here."

The eyes of all were as if clued to the map as Mel, in details – even taking into consideration his limited grasp of the common tongue - told of the way he had carried Legolas' unconscious body – which, to Legolas' surprise, was not as far from the orc camp as he had first suspected. However, it did not fail the elf's attention that his friend did not, with a single word, tell of how exactly he had managed to get Legolas out of the camp in the first place, and, now back in the safety of the Mirkwood castle, he realised that he had never found out. Even though he had seen Mel's ability to create fire with force of his mind alone, he had noticed how fast the dark elf had tired when they had been attacked by orcs the second time.

It had not escaped the attention of Orundel, apparently, and the scholar looked at Mel, asking the question that they each thought: "But how did you manage to fight your way out of the camp?"

Mel frowned lightly, and Legolas was willing to swear he could literally see the thoughts churn within the head of the darker elf. Finally, he held up a hand, and the rest of the table could see how tiny flames danced around his fingertips.

"_Yrch_ burn easy," Mel explained, although it was clear to all that he severely lacked the words he needed to describe what he had done. "They panic, run fast. Those with fire burn other, spread fire. Throw fire, and kill many _yrch_ – got Leglas down, left _yrch_ dead. Not know many count."

"Well, I'll have a patrol comb that area through and be on the lookout for other ambushes," Thranduil said with a nod, studying the map. "It doesn't bode well if they still are able to launch a surprise attack, even this long after Sauron's defeat. In fact, I believe it would be wiser to launch most of our soldiers, and drive the foul creatures from Mirkwood once and for all."

"Just make sure you don't plan the assault to be before I can come along," Legolas said with a light grimace. "I have a personal score to settle with them…" 


	8. Chapter 8: Training Grounds

A/N: With the tiny discussion settled in the last chapter (I'm going cliché, so yes, it's a warning of future plotlines), we can roll onto the more entertaining stuff. A word of warning: the story will from now on contain very, very mild hints of slash. Nothing graphical, and nothing that should be able to quirk anyone unless you're of an extremely sensitive nature. If you want more descriptive things, go look somewhere else. But, still, don't forget that reviews makes the plotbunny happy, and a happy bunny means faster updates…

As always, I don't really own anything general apart from Mel and Taratoun. In this chapter, Larein is under my ownership as well.

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Chapter 8: The training grounds 

The conversation around the table soon turned to more comfortable matters, and they talked until noon, at which Legolas finally grew too restless, being unused to sitting still for this long. Thankfully, the other five seemed to need fresh air as well, and, as they rose to their feet, Legolas asked if Mel would be interested in seeing the training grounds - which the dark elf smiled and agreed to.

Falling into step beside Legolas, Mel however was quieter than usually, which made Legolas wonder if something was wrong with his friend, or if the conversation at breakfast had caused different memories to surface. However, he decided to not press the matter, having from the very beginning found out that Mel preferred to keep most things to himself, and, if it was something he would not mind telling, he would do so on his own.

Instead, he settled for carefully studying the face of the dark elf, and noticed that Mel had surprisingly soft features, even compared to other elves. Even despite his skin that carried the same colour as the fertile earth of Lothlorien, and his nearly white hair, Mel definitely had a type of beauty that quickly would make him a preferred target by any single female – and male, for that matter – within Mirkwood. Frowning lightly, Legolas mused over the odd feelings within his spirit, mentally chastising himself for even thinking about his friend as anymore than a friend…

They soon reached the training grounds, and the Mirkwood prince found a light smile crossing his face at the familiar sounds of elves training with sword or bow. He recalled the numerous hours he, too, had spent in the very same place, although there was no longer the same need for defense as in the day where Sauron still lived. However, seeing as spiders and orcs could still be found in the world, no one had quite ceased keeping their blades sharp and their muscles honed. That, and then it was a friendly way of letting out any aggressions and thus preventing someone from unleashing their anger at a living creature.

As they got closer and beyond the trees circling the area, the training grounds appeared. A large, circular space in its centre had been covered with sand and rubble, creating a smooth, flat and slightly soft surface ideal for training in hand-to-hand combat, as well as different kicks and throws. This area was filled with several pairs of elves, and a few trios, that trained in the arts of either. Along one of the cardinal directions, four elves stood with bows and arrows, and, from what Legolas could see, had a friendly wager about who could hit most precisely – he believed it to be so due to the simple fact that each arrow was not hitting the center of the target, but rather different specific spots, and the three other elves would fire at the same place.

"If you want to practice in anything, feel free," Legolas said with a smile to his friend, who was watching the area with curiosity. "I'll watch for now, though. I doubt anyone would let me hold a bow, much less a sword, in my condition."

"Leglas not need worry," Mel chuckled. "Mel keep Leglas from grounds too."

"My prince! How good to see you have returned among us!" a voice suddenly yelled over the entire glade, interrupting any retort Legolas could have made.

Looking in the direction of the voice, Legolas frowned in disapproval, noticing Larien walking their way. The elf was higher than most, and as broad over the shoulders as a human, with brown hair that had been cut short. However, it was not the looks of this elf that appalled Legolas, but rather his behavior – Larien had long since gained a well-earned reputation of flirting shamelessly with everyone - that be elleth or ellon, married or unmarried - that happened to catch his eye.

"You must be the newest royal pet, Mel," Larien said, as he arrived near the two others, and cast an approving look at the smaller dark elf, and gave a flirting, superior smile that made Legolas' hand clench around his cane. "Mel… That must indeed derive from 'melanin'. Not that I can blame the prince for such as you have the looks of a blushing maiden…"

Mel frowned lightly, crocking his head ever so slightly in the fashion that Legolas had learned meant he was utterly confused and did not understand the words spoken. Larien apparently took it as confirmation, grabbed around the dark elf's jaw and brought his lips into contact with Mel's. He never managed more than the briefest of touches, however, before Mel's knee came up into contact with his groin. As the tall elf broke away with a howl of pain, the dark elf spun out of his grip, and dropped to the ground, kicking the tall elf's legs out from beneath him. As Larien began falling, the dark elf spun again, raising on one hand and delivered a solid kick to the other elf's jaw, sending him flying through the air. Leaping back to his feet, Mel glared down at the tall elf as his wiped his mouth and then spat at the ground near Larien's head, his eyes burning with an anger that Legolas never before had seen in his friend.

"_Anariia satuttu, verata yrch_!" the dark elf hissed, his voice laced with malice, and he reached down, roughly hauling the tall elf back up by his shirt, holding the elf's face close to his and snarled: "Touch Mel again, and you lose what make you male…"

After those words, he released his grip on Larien's collar, causing the other elf to drop back to the ground, and glared up at those who had observed the situation – looking, Legolas noticed, just slightly apologetic. However, only smiled and grins greeting him, and more than a few clapped their hands. It was the first person they had seen who had openly struck and following threatened the big elf after having fallen victim to one of his advances.

"Way to go, Mel!" one of the younger elves cheered, moving forward and clapping the dark elf's shoulder.

Several others did the same, and soon Mel was surrounded by beaming, laughing people who all now had found a new person to idolize – only one helped Larien to his feet and aided him in limping over to one of the benches near the archers. Legolas smiled to himself, happy that Mel had grown popular so fast, although a tiny voice in the back of his mind told him that he would probably face the same wrath as Larien, should he confront Mel with his own, growing feelings.

"You have to teach us how to do that!" another of the trainees cried, giving Mel a very light tug in the direction of the sandy circle. "I've never seen anyone move like that!"

Laughing, seemingly to have grown as calm as usual, Mel followed, giving a light glance back at Legolas who nodded with a smile and moved to sit on another of the benches to watch. Mel seemed more than happy to teach, and even with his limited vocabulary, he quickly had several young elves doing the strange, but effective, kind of kick. Several other moves were taught by the dark elf, each one following the theme of the first that kept each movement flowing together with the first and created a seemingly endless string of attacks - and Legolas began realizing why he had never seen Mel carrying around any type of weapons. His abilities with fire, combined with these skills in martial arts made the dark elf more than ordinary dangerous… 


	9. Chapter 9: Change of Events

A/N: Mel is mine. As is Taratoun. Rest isn't mine. sobs miserably

The game Legolas and Mel, along with others, plays in this chapter is the one known as Mikado among humans. A quite simple, yet very entertaining game.

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Chapter 9: Change of events 

Legolas was happy to notice that Mel quickly was making friends among the Mirkwood guard, although he could not help but feel an odd pang of something akin to jealousy whenever Mel was talking to someone other than Legolas self and his father or Aragorn and Arwen.

He supposed it was because Mel caused more than common mayhem around Mirkwood due to his exotic looks and winning personality, even though the dark elf distanced himself from anyone showing interest in anything but his friendship. This, however, turned out to include a surprisingly high number of both female and male elves, who, despite the dark elf's obvious rejections, continued their more or less (usually less) subtle advances. Over the next three days, Mel was often forced to resort to threats in order to get a single night of relative peaceful sleep. Thankfully, he had also become Taratoun's favourite person after Legolas, and the giant spider proved helpful in keeping the more persistent pursuers at bay.

Mel also began spending more and more time in the library, locked away either alone or with one of the scholars for company. What took place there, however, was something that remained a mystery to all, as neither scholars nor dark elf would tell anything of what they were doing. The only clue that anyone got was that Mel's accent, if possible, became more noticeable. Orundel was no help either, as he merely smiled and gave a cryptically nod when asked, before giving the excuse that he was needed elsewhere and disappeared, leaving a confused Legolas behind.

It was not until the morning on the third day, where Aragorn and Arwen were preparing for departure, and Aragorn leaned down from his horse to shake Mel's hand, that it became clear what exactly had occupied the dark elf in the past days.

''Good journey, king Elessar. May the wind and road see to that you may safely return to Gondor," Mel said with a beaming smile. ''I hope that I will one day have the chance to come by and see the White city in all of its glory."

"If you do, it will be my pleasure to give you a personal tour," Aragorn replied with a grin, shaking the hand of the dark elf.

As the royal couple rode out of the small courtyard at the back entrance of the Mirkwood palace, Mel turned around and flashed Legolas a beaming smile – and the lighter elf knew that he was openly gawping. By his side, Orundel was making a strange string of choked sounds that revealed his inability to keep his laughter contained, and judging from the smiles and coughs from many of the other scholars, it was clear that everyone had been hard at work to create this surprise and dramatically broaden the dark elf's vocabulary.

"I'm impressed," Thranduil said, not able to hide a light grin himself. 

"I've been told I learn fast," Mel replied, his voice, though still as melodious as before, holding an implacable accent that revealed him as not yet fully proficient in the common tongue. However, even despite this, Legolas had to admit he, too, was greatly impressed…

The weather, however, turned to heavy rain within the hour, and soon the elves retreated to the shelter of the Mirkwood Palace, seeking out the wide, public rooms to spend the time with friends and relatives. Mel quickly introduced Legolas to a type of game his people had played, using a small circle on the carpet and a handful of small sticks marked with different dots. Dropped randomly on the ground, the challenge was to slowly remove one stick at the time, while avoiding any of the other sticks moved in the process.

Other elves soon joined in, each participant sitting on the floor to form a circle around the sticks on the ground. However, it did not escape Legolas' attention that a majority of the other players were more busy openly staring at Mel than with playing the game, and, judging from the increase in small twitchs in Mel's facial muscles, the dark elf had noticed the looks as well. One of the female elves shuffled close to the dark elf, stretching lightly in a fashion that Legolas easily could predict would result in her hand 'accidentally' dropping into Mel's lap.

Before she managed to complete the move, however, Mel suddenly rose to his feet, excused himself, and briskly walked out of the room, leaving the others behind. Giving an apologetic nod as well, Legolas too rose to his feet and followed his friend out the cosy hall and into one of the more deserted corridors connecting each room in the Palace. Mel stood near one of the tapestries decorating this particular hall, leaning against the wall and his face hidden within his hands.

"Are you okay?" Legolas asked, concerned about his friend's wellbeing.

"I'll be fine," Mel replied with a sigh, dropping his hands to his sides again. "Just tired of attention. Feel like fine prize to hunt – cannot event sleep in peace at night."

"Well… I'm afraid it's somewhat the truth," Legolas replied, moving to stand beside his friend and leaned against the wall as well. "It's often been so that if someone exotic, charming, pretty and single arrives in the Hall, it becomes something close to a contest to see who can manage to seduce said person into their bed first. Unfortunately, the longer you try to avoid their attentions, the harder they will try."

"So you say cure is to sleep with one?" Mel asked, raising a single white eyebrow.

Legolas opened his mouth to answer, but did not manage to utter anything before the dark elf continued with a sigh of surrender: "One night would be to survive, if they leave me alone then…"

The Mirkwood elf found he choked on his own protest, managing only to break into a fit of coughs rather than tell it would not be an idea he would recommend. A concerned look crossed the dark elf's features, and he patted Legolas' back, helping him to regain control of his breathing.

"Take easy, then it stop," Mel said, rubbing Legolas' back in an effort to help calming the taller elf's breathing, and Legolas fought against the desire to continue coughing in order to make the dark elf continue the rubbing.

"I'm okay," he croaked instead. "I'll be fine."

"Good," Mel smiled, then glanced down the corridor. "Orundel tell me about a book he says I should read. The book be in library near here, he say."

"Yes. It's just two doors down, and it has a view over the forest," Legolas replied, giving a final cough to clear his throat. "I'll walk you there."

Mel smiled, and obediently trotted alongside Legolas the relatively short distance to the tiny library. It was safely hidden away, the door nearly invisible between two large tapestries, but it was one perfectly suited for more private studying than the large library which also housed the scholars. The only reason for why it had not yet become an attractive place for lovers to meet was the single, large window that allowed light to shine into the library, and the fact that the door was quite loosely build and thus not good at keeping sounds from leaving the room.

However, as the door slid open, both elves stopped dead in their tracks. The large window had apparently not been closed by the last person within the library, and now several of the large spiders inhabiting Mirkwood had used the darkness and humidity of the rainfall to move close to the Palace, and to crawl through the ajar window. Far bigger than Taratoun, each of these spiders rose three-and-a-half feet into the air, and each had a body the length of an elf. They hissed and cackled among themselves, pieces of common mingled with the black tongue of Mordor used to curse and alert those crawling up the wall that elveses had entered the library. Mel acted instantly, breaking into a leap longer than Legolas had thought possible, and gave one of the spiders crawling through the window a flying kick that flung it back out, taking the following spiders with it.

Legolas quickly turned around, shouting a warning down the hallway, and prayed that it was loud enough to be heard by someone, before he turned his attention back to the intruders. A small fireplace was near the door, used for heating the library during the winter, and the poker from said fireplace would prove to be a functional temporary weapon until assistance arrived.

Mel was already kicking and punching at the many spiders that had gotten inside the library, causing several of them to back off with their backs on fire and sending even more flying through the air, trying to get them back out of the window. Deciding that the strategy of trying to keep the spiders from getting further into the palace through this library, Legolas took up guard near the door, using the poker to drive off those spiders seeking to escape through the door.

However, being given a brief respite in the seemingly endless onslaught from the spiders, the Mirkwood elf briefly glanced to his friend, and gave a cry of warning when he saw that one of the eight-legged beasts had leaped at the dark elf's back. Mel heard the cry and turned around, just in time to bring up an arm and block the fangs that would otherwise be buried in his neck. With a snarl of pain from the elf, the spider received a solid punch that, though its fangs dragged a nasty cut down the elf's arm, sent it out the window.

At the same moment, Legolas heard running feet in the corridor behind him, and he quickly sidestepped, allowing the four armed elves from the Mirkwood guard to burst through. Now suddenly faced with several elves, the spiders quickly retreated, even though none of them managed to return to the depths of the forest, as archers had lined up below the window and took out each spider making its escape, causing those that had not been killed by the arrows to plummet to their doom against the hard rocks below the window.

Taking a few, steadying breaths, Legolas quickly assured that no spider still lived, and turned his gaze to Mel with a grin. However, his happiness quickly evaporated, as he realized the dark elf had grown oddly pale, and was leaning against the wall while he clasped the wounded arm to his chest. Giving another glance at the corpses on the ground, Legolas immediately understood why. This was the only type of spider in Mirkwood that had a poison strong enough to kill an adult elf…

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A/N: Don't kill me! Look – next chapter is up already! 


	10. Chapter 10: A Promise Given

A/N: I only own Mel and Taratoun.

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Chapter 10: A promise given 

Legolas nervously paced the room, every so often glancing to the bed where Mel lay. The dark elf had dropped into unconsciousness only a few minutes after having been brought to the healers, and had not woken up once in the four hours that had passed since. Even though the healers had assured Legolas that the dark elf would not die from the poison, Legolas was still worried about his friend. It felt odd to him to see the otherwise kinetic Mel lie prone and silent in the bed, a fine sheen of sweat covering the dark forehead as his body fought to neutralize the last of the poison.

Outside the room, he knew, several other elves filled up chairs and floor, each and every one patiently waiting for any news concerning the dark elf's condition – even though many of the same had been busy trying to seduce the elf, each one considered Mel to be a good friend of Mirkwood and one that none would wish to see dead. Frowning, Legolas fought his feeling of jealousy at the thought of Mel having attracted almost each and every person within Mirkwood, and reminded himself that Mel had not shown the least interest in being anything but friendly with any of those.

"Leglas?" a small voice suddenly asked from the only other figure within the room.

Immediately, moving with a speed that later would astonish himself, Legolas was at the bed, clasping the hand of his friend as Mel dizzily blinked and tried to bring the room into focus. A weak smile graced his lips as he focused on Legolas, and the Mirkwood elf found his hand being squeezed lightly, even as he read the question in his friend's deep-blue eyes.

"You were poisoned by one of the spiders," he said, hoping that the fever raging within Mel's body from the poison was not so bad that he could not understand the words spoken. "You fainted, and you've been out for the last four hours."

"That long?" Mel asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, and his eyes slid close again, although he kept his grasp on Legolas' hand. "Still feel so tired…"

"The healers said you got a large dose of the poison. They were surprised that you didn't die from it," Legolas replied, quickly wiping a few tears from his eyes with his free hand and fought to keep his voice from breaking. "It's good to see you decided to stay with us."

"Mel stubborn," the dark elf chuckled, little more than a wheeze escaping him. "But still tired… You stay while sleep?"

"I'll stay," Legolas agreed, swallowing thickly, and gently stroke the dark hand within his with his thumb. "I won't leave you. I promise." 


	11. Chapter 11: Chaos, thy name is Legolas

A/N: If you've read this far, you know I only own Mel and Taratoun.

I've been told that Mel fits the perfect role of a Gary Stu. Yet, he is NOT such one - his looks, his ability to wield fire, and just about everything else about him has a reason. His dark skin originates from a dark-skinned father from Far Harad, and his hair, eyes and skills are due to reasons explained more detailed in chapter 18...

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Chapter 11: Chaos, thy name is Legolas

Legolas took it as his personal task to see to Mel's speedy recovery, although he continued to have trouble fighting the slowly growing feelings within him. Once Mel grew better, even though he was still confined to his bed, he and Legolas played many games, talked or did other things to pass the time. And when the dark elf dosed off, his body still weak from the poison, Legolas began passing the time by using his skills in drawing to make a portrait of the dark elf, and found he was slowly but steadily falling in love.

He was quite confused over his own feelings, but kept them to himself, having little desire to frighten off his dear friend by confessing them. And so, he waited instead, doing what he could to aid Mel as he recovered from the spider's bite, and only in his dreams allowed his mind to picture how it would be to have his feelings returned.

And so it was that a week passed while the dark elf grew more and more restless with lying in bed, and even the healers' orders could no longer keep him from leaving the room and walking the corridors and halls of the Palace. He and Legolas were sitting on one of the benches in a small garden that Thranduil had created for Legolas' mother while she still lived, breathing in the calm atmosphere of the place, and talking about different things.

Yet, Legolas was utterly taken by surprise when Mel went silent for a while, and, as the Mirkwood elf turned his head, suddenly found himself being given a hug by the dark elf, and felt warm lips press against his for just a brief second.

"Thank you for everything," Mel said, laying his head against Legolas' shoulder for a moment before pulling away, a smile on his features.

Legolas sat still, his mind screaming fanatically at him. Everything he felt for the dark elf came crashing over him at that moment, yet a part of his brain yelled in protest of how it was custom among some cultures to give a kiss as a sign of friendship. Feeling torn, he muttered a low excuse and quickly rose to his feet, walking fast out of the garden, not noticing the wounded look in Mel's eyes as he left.

He sought out the solace of the rooftops of the Palace, finding a secluded spot behind a chimney where he hoped he would be able to make some sense of his thoughts. Part of him told him to return to Mel, confess his feelings and accept any rejection he might get, even though that would risk their friendship. Another part of him protested against this, telling that Mel had been the only giving him a kiss, however brief it had been. And a third part kept insisting that even among the Lothlorién elves was it custom to give a light kiss as a signal of trust and friendship – and that it was quite likely it was so in the culture Mel originated from.

He lost track of time, trying to sort out the muddle of feelings within himself and desperately trying to interpret what Mel could have meant with his gesture. It was not until he turned his eyes to the sky and saw the first stars twinkle in the sky. Drawing a deep breath, he figured that it would probably be for the best to seek out Mel, apologize for his behaviour, and confess how he felt. Yet, he found that Mel was not within the garden where he had been left, in the Grand Hall, or within his room – in which, it struck the elf, his things were missing as well.

Having a sudden feeling of dread, Legolas was close to running through the hallways, his eyes desperately searching for the familiar white locks and dark skin, yet he found nothing. Only when he nearly ran into his father did he find out what was happening.

"I've been looking for you, Lassui," Thranduil said, gently grabbing the shoulders of his offspring. "You missed Mel's departure – although I would have thought you would be the first one there to bid him farewell."

"Mel's left?" Legolas gasped, immediately knowing that he had truly broken their friendship more than he would have been able to by confessing he loved the dark elf.

"You didn't know?" Thranduil asked, a frown creasing his brow, and tightened his grasp on his son slightly when Legolas tried to break free. "He left in quite a hurry, although I did not know why before. You two had an argument of some kind?"

"I… I fear it may have been me causing him to leave," Legolas stammered, his mind racing. "I have to fetch him – I have to apologize!"

For a few seconds, Thranduil was silent, looking into the eyes of the younger elf with a gaze that seemed to look straight into the depths of Legolas' soul, before he released his grasp and said: "He walks on foot, and asked for the safest path out of Mirkwood. Take Arod and go northeast – you should be able to catch up with him within the hour."

Giving a light bow, thanking the Valar for his understanding father, Legolas broke into a true run down the hallways, only skittering to a halt once he reached the stable. Not bothering with a saddle or rein, he brought out Arod and quietly asked his equine friend to help him track down Mel. With a snort, Arod waited for Legolas to mount, then broke into a fast gallop out of the stable and down the pathways through Mirkwood.

The darkness of the night was penetrating the forest, the coolness of the air causing fog to rise from the ground and making it difficult to see the path. Yet, Legolas pressed on, undaunted by the darkness and the sound of nocturnal creatures stirring to life around him. He did not know how long he rode, only that he was following a small spark within his mind, a sixth sense that guided him through the forest down paths he had only rarely passed.

Then, he saw it. Ahead, slightly up a small hill within a glade, the faint glow of a campfire. His hope renewed, Legolas pushed Arod on even faster, feeling as if the distance would never grow shorter. Even before Arod came to a full stop had the elf leapt off, and half ran, half climbed up the hill, slipping in the dew-wet grass as he approached the campfire.

A surprised Mel rose to his feet as Legolas tumbled up the hill, clearly not having expected any of this. He opened his mouth to speak, yet, before he managed to do so, Legolas had reached him. Wrapping both arms around the slightly smaller elf, the Mirkwood elf pressed his lips against dark ones, feeling Mel tense in surprise in his arms.

"I'm sorry," Legolas whispered, breaking off the kiss and gently brushing a lock of bluish white hair from the forehead of Mel. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have run off like that. I care for you, Mel, I even love you, I have for a long time and I'm sorry…"

Mel then gently silenced him, placing a single finger on Legolas' lips.

"I know," he said softly. "I saw it in your eyes. But I hoped you would not say so. I like you – as a friend. A good friend. But not as a lover. I thinked your kin do as mine when giving friendship and… alliance. I apologize for giving you the wrong idea."

"It's okay," Legolas replied, swallowing before giving a weak smile. "And it would be 'thought', not 'thinked'."

Mel made a face, and mock-punched Legolas' shoulder, commenting with a laugh: "_Esa doa_! I've only been around you for two weeks, you shouldn't complain of my language!"

"Not until you start teaching me yours so I'll be able to understand when you're insulting me!" Legolas replied, laughing equally hard. Taking a few steadying breaths, he smiled and held out a hand. "Friends?"

"Friends," Mel agreed, clasping the offered hand with a smile. "And only that." 


	12. Chapter 12: Explanations and Departures

A/N: I own Mel. And that's it.

No, the story is not coming to an end yet, and updates WILL continue to appear more or less randomly.

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Chapter 12: Explanations and departures

The two friends walked down the path, both on foot and with Arod trotting patiently behind them.

"So, where had you planned to go?" Legolas asked, trying to break the silence between them. Even though he was certain of Mel's friendship, he still felt embarrassed over his outburst of emotion when he had caught up with the dark elf.

"King Elessar invited me to Gondor. I thought to go there, see the White City," Mel replied. "See city from mountain when climbing, but I did not enter."

"When did you climb the mountains near the Minas Tirith?" Legolas asked, frowning lightly. He recalled the distance to the great city, having ridden there more than a few times since the crowning of Aragorn, and knew it was no small distance. 

"Fourteen passes of Moon ago," Mel replied, making a gesture towards the glowing disk among the stars. "I walked much, before I came to Mirkwood. I learned some about the land, and heard stories. But many didn't like me – though I was part _yrch_ or at least a servant of Sauron because of my looks."

"Well, you don't exactly look like the norm," Legolas agreed. "Your dark skin and light hair looks sufficiently strange that I can imagine more than a few might have been spooked a little by it. Especially if you were using those abilities of yours."

Mel snorted: "My clan all have white hair and white skin. My father brought black skin to my clan, although my mother told me he had black hair, too. I guess white hair was just stronger in me. As for my abilities, it only lies within my medallion."

"Medallion?" Legolas asked, blinking. He had thought that Mel's gift to wield fire was just a spiritual gift.

"Yes. Given by my father before he left. He was a _seeraht_ – wise man," the dark elf replied, reached behind his neck and undid the knot of a tiny necklace he following held up.

It was twice the size of the nail of a thumb, no thicker than a coin, and had a tiny hole drilled through the top through which a leather cord was placed so it could hang around a neck. Strange, circular symbols filled the surface of the medallion, strange signs that seemed to be older than the Elves. Smiling, Mel held the amulet further forward, encouraging Legolas to take it. As his fingers touched it, the Mirkwood elf flinched slightly, feeling an impossible warmth radiate from the medallion.

"Try it on," Mel said with a smile. "Don't be afraid – it's hot, but won't hurt you."

Carefully, Legolas tied the cord around his neck, letting the small amulet fall onto his chest, and instantly felt a nearly overwhelming heat flood his body, as if liquid fire had been poured into his veins. It was not painful, however, although he now understood why Mel never had seemed affected by cold in any way.

"Hold up your hand," the dark elf said, grinning lightly. "And push the heat into your fingers. It's not that difficult."

Doing as told, Legolas could feel the warmth flowing around within him, seeking upwards and out his arm, gathering within his hand. To his surprise, flames started licking up his digits, floating the width of a hair from the skin. Instinctively, he shook his hand in order to extinguish the fire, but found that the flames did not disappear before he lost his focus and the warmth flowed back into his body.

"It get very warm after a while," Mel continued, seemingly satisfied with Legolas' performance. "But water cools you down. I spend a lot of time in rivers while I grew used to the heat."

"And that was why you kept looking out for water while you dragged me back to the Palace? To cool yourself down?" the Mirkwood elf asked, receiving a nod in reply. "Why didn't you just remove the amulet?"

Mel shrugged, before replying: "If I took it off, it would be harder to put it on again. If I kept it on, I would be used to the heat, and would not feel like you do now – like burning. Only problem is that the air is very cold for me now," he added with a chuckle.

"Have it back then," Legolas said, undoing the cord and tossing the amulet the short distance to Mel, immediately feeling the unnatural heat leave him. He could not help but wonder how the Quest of the Ring would had turned out, had the Fellowship had such one in their possession when crossing the Caradhras – and of how different things could have turned if had Gandalf not fallen into the Shadow.

For a long while, silence was between them again, before Legolas once more broke the sounds of the night: "You're still determined to leave?"

"I know I'm making it hard for you when I stay," Mel replied. "Although it is a place more like home than my clan, I would rather visit and let you sort out yourself, than stay and cause more trouble for you."

The two came to a fork in the path, one leading to the Mirkwood Palace and the other out of the forest. They stopped, Arod coming to a halt as well, and Legolas swallowed lightly, not appreciating the prospect of letting Mel go.

"You sure you can't be talked into staying?" he finally asked, a hopeful glimmer in his eyes.

Mel smiled and shook his head.

"No. I'm grateful for the weeks with you and your family, but even without our internal problems, I know that I would soon grow mad. I'm not used to stay in one place for long time."

"I hope we'll see each other again sometime," Legolas said, shaking the dark elf's hand.

Mel paused for a short while, then leaned forward and drew the taller elf into a short hug, giving him a pat on the back. Breaking it almost as soon as he had made the gesture, he gave a final smile, before adjusting his backpack and began walking down the path in the opposite direction of the Mirkwood Palace, only once looking back once to raise a hand in greeting as he followed the path around a turn and disappeared from sight.

Sighing, Legolas mounted Arod and, quite slower than he had gone out, rode the long way back to his home… 


	13. Chapter 13: Plans

A/N: Sorry about the late update. Something big, heavy, made of rock and with the name "Writer's Block carved into its side placed itself on my desk and began growling every time I got close… So, this chapter is short, and next chapter is up already.

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**Chapter 13: The passing of Time**

Days slowly rolled by, stretching into weeks, and finally into months. Legolas waited for a short while, sitting long and watching over the paths to the Palace, hoping to see his friend, yet found that it was in vain. Soon, his minds turned to other things, and he spent more time in Mirkwood's vast libraries, reading up on the ancient records of what was needed for forming a new colony. Ever since Aragorn's coronation had he had dreams of creating such a colony in North Ithilien, a place where elves might get closer to the ever growing race of humans and learn them to know better.

Although Ithilien lay far from both Lothloríen and Mirkwood, it was far nearer to Minas Tirith and the Glittering Caves beneath Helm's Deep, where Gimli currently reigned as Lord. A smile crossed the elf's face as he fondly recalled his dwarven comrade, the two of them starting out with a deep hate and distrust in each other, but had at end become so fast friends that some had started the rumours of them being lovers. It was still something that both of them would laugh hard about whenever they met and would share a bottle of ale or wine in an evening while talking about the many different things that they had in common despite their different species.

Chuckling, remembering one such conversation that had ended up with the two of them counting and calculating to find out exactly how long they had run in the pursuit of the Uruk-Hai after the capture of Merry and Pippin, Legolas wondered if he should not soon go to visit his friend. Inevitably, this brought his mind back to the first time he had visited the Glittering Caves after Gimli's people had moved in and lived there for some time, and of how he had manage to knock his head so firmly into the top of a tunnel that Gimli still insisted the rock had a deep dent in it – and, of course, that it had only served to further rattle loose the elf's brain.

"How is it going?" Thranduil asked, apparently having watched his son's musings for a while, and broke the silence so suddenly that Legolas made a small, startled jump before he managed to stop himself.

"It's going well, Ada," the younger elf replied, turning his attention back to the papers and tomes before him. "I'm trying to find out if there are things I have not yet found of potential problems."

"Ah, yes. I had thought as much," the King said, moving to stand beside Legolas. "And I figured you might be in the need for a bit of advice on this."

"Sadly, I must admit that's an underestimation," Legolas sighed, rubbing a hand over his brow. "I'd never thought that THIS amount of planning was necessary! Any advice you can give me would be greatly appreciated, Ada."

Smiling, Thranduil began explaining and advising, leaving much to Legolas to work out himself, but offering the experience he had gained through a few thousand years as the King of Mirkwood, as well as what he had learned from his own father, Oropher – albeit this was not a lot… 


	14. Chapter 14: To the rescue, again

A/N: In order to defeat the mighty block on my desk, I've decided to let Legolas be squashed for a while, and instead bring the focus onto Mel and his journey… Change of POV (Point Of View) eminent! And yes, the story WILL continue….

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**Chapter 14: To the rescue - again**

The sun slowly climbed over the mountainside, its rays illuminating the great city, revealing the white stone from which it was build inch by inch. Mel smiled, his eyes picking out the faint shapes of people awakening and beginning to move about as the sun crawled through the streets, life in the top-most tower already fully awake by the time the final shred of the night's darkness fled the outer circle of the town.

Chuckling, deciding that perhaps it was not so bad that he had managed to make a wrong turn and had ended up at the wrong mountain top, the dark elf dug through his backpack and pulled out one of the waybread King Thranduil's cook had given him when he left Mirkwood – lembas, or something akin to that – to eat as he began his trot down the mountain in the direction of the great white city. He looked greatly forward to visit the city, both due to its immense size – he had not seen a town this big since he had journeyed through the lands of Harad – and because he had grown quite fond of both King Elessar and Queen Arwen during their stay at King Thranduil's palace.

Pausing in his steps, his mind going back to Leglas, he felt a slight pang of pain within his spirit. He did miss his good friend – the first true friend he had gained in these lands – and he still mourned that their friendship had been ruined as it had. The exchange of breath had always been something which symbolised a deep friendship and a promise to maintain this bond throughout the ages to him, yet Leglas had taken it so very differently – and had only confirmed that he and Mel came from two so different cultures that it would probably take long before either would fully learn to understand the other.

A frown crossed a dark brow as he recalled how things had been within King Thranduil's kingdom. It was a thought very foreign to those within Mel's clan that any male would be able to reign over a group of people – it had always been, and would probably always be so that the females were those with the final say. The Matriarch was the only who chose who were within the clan, and those outside of her favour were soon cast out – but here, King Thranduil had ruled, even without a Queen by his side…

Shaking his head lightly, once more reminding himself that this was a place several months' travel from his old home, and everything – even the weather, plants and animals – were different than what he knew of. Alone the lack of the great herds of the Long-nosed Sisters and Brothers, those Leglas had called Oliphants, should be enough to remind him of that fact.

Skittering down the mountain, he focused his mind on the present, realising that he had come to a quite sudden drop, where the only visible path was to turn back. Grinning, the dark elf dumped his backpack and quickly searched through his few belongings, pulling out his long wrist-spikes. Pulling on each, he adjusted the long piece of metal so it curved over the top of his fists, and hoisted the pack onto his shoulders again. Taking a few steadying breaths, he moved to the side of the cliff, giving but the briefest of glances down, and then jumped, twisting in the air as he began to fall.

Driving both arms forward, he rammed the two spikes deep into the rock and immediately felt the jolt through his body as his descent was slowed drastically, but not fully stopped. Waiting, letting the weight of his body drag him down, he pulled out one of the spikes the moment he felt it meeting something slightly harder than the rest of the rock, only to ram it back in a little lower, below the harder area. Continuing this process, he quickly descended down the side of the cliff, using his feet to support his weight whenever the stone grew too loose for his spikes to slow his descent enough, and soon landed, safely, on the rubble below the steep cliff.

Humming a small melody, he returned the spikes to their place within his pack along with a mental note to sharpen their blades, before he continued his walk, still in the general direction of the White City. However, despite his best attempts, he soon found he had to walk nearly half-way around the mountain down one path, before he finally managed to locate another path that went downwards, as he had no intention of trying to crawl down a very rocky and loose mountainside – he would most likely trigger a rockslide and get crushed rather than reach the bottom safely if he attempted to do so…

However, his thoughts were cut off when he heard a female shriek of terror, and, instinctively, he broke into a run in the direction of the sound. Racing around a bend, he skittered to a stop on a tiny ledge and found he had a surprisingly view over what was taking place some ten feet below on a small, grassy meadow that somehow had sprung to life in the shadow of the mountain.

Three women, of which he recognized one as Queen Arwen, were trapped within a small alcove of the mountain, a huge bear towering over them as it growled and snarled. A mother bear, Mel could see, as he spotted three tiny furballs running away from the meadow and realised that the females had probably, unwillingly, disturbed the bear while it was taking its young for a walk. A horse lay dead, torn open by huge claws, behind the bear, and, in the distance, two clouds of dust revealed that the other two horses had bolted in fright.

The bear was quite young, the dark elf determined, and it was probably defending its first litter – which was why it had risked a confrontation, rather than just running away. Knowing that it would mean the death of the cubs if the bear was killed, but the death of Queen Arwen if the bear was not stopped, Mel did the only thing he could think of. He jumped, letting his full weight hit the bear to drive it momentary off balance and thus gain its attention.

It roared with rage and twisted, sending the light elf towards the side of the mountain, and instantly, years of experience kicked in, the elf immediately recalling the teachings of his Clan's Master, and he spun within the air, hitting the rock with his feet first. Waiting for a split second, until his knees were fully bend and the entire energy from the throw had been released, he straitened his legs and propelled himself away from the rock, once more hitting the bear with his full weight and felt its front legs wrap around him.

"They won't hurt you!" he shouted, fearlessly looking straight into the bear's massive maw as it roared at him, and felt a near-shocking pain jolt through his back.

Placing both hands on the bear's shoulders, he pushed away in an attempt to break free of the crushing hug, even though he heard a strange ripping noise, and continued to yell at it, explaining that the three females posed no threat, and that it should just walk away. His mind was fully turned to the cubs and the women, working hard to defend both parties.

Slowly, the bear calmed, finally releasing its grip and dropping to all fours. With a final snort, it turned and quickly ran away, following its fleeing cubs. Gasping for breath, wondering faintly over the strange throb in his back, the dark elf turned his gaze to the three, still paralyzed, women and was relieved to see that they all appeared uninjured. He tried rising to his feet, but was surprised when he found his legs were uncooperative and refused to carry him, causing him to drop to his knees almost instantly.

And then, the three females were by his side, speaking far too fast for him to understand at first, and the strange buzz in his head was not helping. Glancing to Queen Arwen, his heart skipped a beat when he realised that there was blood on her beautiful dress.

"Are you hurt, My Lady?" he asked, hoping that he had managed to formulate the words in common.

"I'm fine," she whispered, a strange look of horror in her eyes.

Blinking, hoping it would help him in seeing through the strange fog that seemed to fill the meadow, the dark elf realised that he apparently had a cut of some sort, seeing another drop of blood dripping from his shoulder onto the Lady's fine dress.

"I'm sorry, My Lady. I appear to be ruining your clothes," he said, and found that his breath, too, was beginning to fail him. It had to be some kind of post-traumatic shock finally settling in now that the adrenalin from his initial leap at the bear had disappeared.

At the confused look at Queen Arwen's face, he realised he had spoken in his native tongue, but, when trying to formulate the same sentence in common, found that the words were fleeing him. Blinking, finding it harder to look, he realised that a strange type of darkness was settling over the meadow – although he found it odd. The birds were still singing as if it was broad daylight, unlike what they normally did when the great Air Serpent was swallowing the Sun for a short while…

Giving a brief glance down, feeling something wet start soaking his clothes, he was mildly surprised to see a puddle of red forming tiny rivers through the pebbles – and, only faintly, was aware of voices raising in alarm around him as the world quickly grew darker, until the point where his final shred of consciousness released its stubborn hold. 


	15. Chapter 15: Preparations

A/N: I managed to demolish the huge block on my desk. Ideas for the story are pouring out in return, and, hopefully, I will be able to spit out chapters faster (providing I can find enough time to get them down!). I'll alternate between Legolas' and Mel's POV for the upcoming chapters. I found a map of Middle Earth with some distances written down – and according to that one, it takes about two weeks to go from Mirkwood to Gondor on horseback, so I've estimated two months for a person on foot if going straight from one place to another. However, Mel's probably found something interesting to explore, and thus the amount of time that has passed.

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**Chapter 15: Preparations**

The plans had been made, drawn and put into action. Legolas was proud to receive the latest report from the constructors at Ithilien, telling that enough talans had been constructed to support a tiny community and everything was set for the first group of elves to move in – aside from those first constructors, of course. The Mirkwood prince searched through the mountains of papers stacked on his desk and removed a single, long list containing the names of those who had agreed to move to this new colony, and who he had deemed to be the best suited for the first wave. Mostly consisting of carpenters and hunters, their job would be to continue the massive work on the colony and fill their supplies in preparation for the next group of arrivals.

Looking up from the list, a smile crossed the young elf's face as he took in the sight of a large chest on his floor. He would be among the first to move into the new colony, so that he would be able to oversee its completion himself. His father had proven a great help to him, giving advice and suggestions whenever it was needed, but had, slowly and steadily, left more and more to Legolas self until the point where the younger elf could handle it all on his own.

Everything had been in the works for a long time, with many elves travelling back and forth between the colony and their temporary residences within Minas Tirith during the primary construction of the colony, and, Legolas knew, the first few had taken up residence in the few fully completed talans.

A smile of remembrance crossed Legolas' face as he recalled the many long spend on discussions, more than once going on until the early morning hours, as a decision had to be made as to how to build the colony. If they should settle on underground dwellings like the Mirkwood palace, on homes on the ground, or if they should go with talans like those that had been in Lóthloríen before Galadriel and Celeborn had sailed across the sea. It had taken weeks before they had finally settled on the talans, having had too many arguments against the first and second idea. Aside from the caverns below Helm's deep, the ground was not suited for digging habitats, and homes on the ground was not considered safe so far from regular elven territory. So, talan it had been.

Pausing, holding the list of names in the air, the elf's eyes drifted to the window where the trees could be seen, their leaves slowly turning to the orange shade of autumn, and a few had already begun to shred their once dense foliage. With a little luck, the first elves would have arrived at the beginning of winter.

Unbidden, his mind turned to Minas Tirith, and his smile faltered lightly as he recalled Mel. Even though he had only known the dark elf for a month, he had found a closer friend than in even Aragorn. Some form of deep understanding, a harmony of fëa that showed whenever they had talked. Perhaps that was why Legolas had felt the way he did… That his mind had twisted a very deep friendship and a brotherly type of comradeship and dual-sided care into a feeling it recognized as love, while it was, in truth, nothing more than a very deep bond of friendship.

Frowning, it suddenly struck Legolas that the feeling, perhaps, had been one-sided. Despite their many conversations, despite all the things he had told, Mel had ever, truly, revealed anything about his family. He had told his clan had been white-haired and fair of skin, and that his father had been some form of wizard and black-skinned. But it ended there, it struck the Mirkwood elf. He had never been told if Mel had any siblings. He had heard nothing about Mel's mother, his family and friends, or even most of his travels. All he appeared to have recounted throughout the month had mostly been from the time when he crossed though Harad and onwards until the time he entered Mirkwood…

Shaking his head lightly, he turned his attention back at the paper in his hand. Nearly two seasons had passed since Mel had left Mirkwood. Or Greenwood, as they had started to call it once more, as the final spiders and orcs had been driven from the forest, and the sunlight had begun to finally shine upon every area of the forest, banishing the gloomy light that had changed Greenwood the Great's name to the, at the time when it had appeared first, more fitting Mirkwood.

That this last of the elven Kingdoms would return to its old self was one of the greater proofs that Sauron's evil had come to an end once and for all.

"Maybe new times are arriving for all of us," Legolas said to himself with a smile and turned his attention back to matters at hand.


	16. Chapter 16: Rescuer rescued

A/N: And now we turn out attention back to where we left off in chapter 14. Don't forget to review. I know you guys are reading this….. And sorry for the late update. Real Life™ problems…

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**Chapter 16: Rescuer rescued**

Slowly, consciousness began re-settling, and scents invaded his nostrils. Grass, he easily recognized, along with the strong scent of earth were the first to enter his mind. Blood came secondly, masked partly by the scent of flowers and females. A mild overtone of spices and green forests separated one from the other two – and he had experienced that scent often enough to decide it to be an elf's.

His nerves began working as the next, immediately shipping signals about impossible pain straight to his mind and causing him to give a light groan before he managed to stop it. Thankfully, he could feel he lay on his stomach, soft grass against his cheek revealing that he had not yet moved from the meadow, and the sound of someone chatting with slightly high-pitched voices managed to make its way to his brain.

Taking a steadying breath, he forced his body to ignore the pain and pushed up on his arms, rolling around to sit on the grass. It was difficult breathing, but the initial shock his body had received was fast fading, allowing his experience from long years of living in the wild to take over. He remembered a very similar situation he had experienced while travelling through some of the mountains in Harad, and he had met an angry lion. It, too, had tried to tear out his spine, and although the encounter had ended with the lion's death, the wounds it had left behind were not all too different from these ones.

The only main difference aside from the move in geography, the dark elf thought wryly, was that he back then did not have two completely hysterical humans and one mildly terrified elf sitting near…

Slowly letting out his breath, he quickly made an estimation of the situation – a habit he always had had, and probably would maintain until his dying day. The females looked only slightly more panicked than they had right after the bear had left. His shirt was not stuck to his back through dried blood, meaning that he had only passed out for a minute or two. However, he felt light-headed, and the continuous stream of warmth down his back told him that the wounds would need wrapping – and fast.

The two human women accompanying the Lady Arwen were sitting on the ground, hugging each other and giving frightened, panicking noises although his vocabulary was not extensive enough to determine what exactly they were saying. Glancing around briefly, ignoring the nausea that the movement of his eyes caused, he spotted immediately the reason for why the bear had not torn his back completely to pieces – his backpack had been shredded by the massive claws, but, apparently, had managed to keep the worst of the damage away from him.

Leaning forward, gritting his teeth against the agony of stretching the damaged areas, he searched through the torn pack and pulled out the bandages he always carried with him. The bear had probably not cleaned its claws before going to the meadow with its young, but washing the wounds would have to wait. For now, the most important things were to keep his blood inside his body and calming down the three females.

Grasping the torn tunic, he pulled it over his head, an involuntary hiss escaping him as torn cloth was pulled from the wounds, and dropped the damaged piece of clothing to the ground. However, gentle hands took the bandage from him, and, glancing up, saw the Lady Arwen kneeling before him. Even though a slight look of horror remained in her eyes, she had folded her face into a mask void of expression – a look that the dark elf had seen often enough on experienced healers.

Understanding her intention, he wordlessly raised his arms into the air, sucking in air and shutting his eyes as the movement caused another wave of pain to explode from his back and made the world momentarily spin. Fighting the nausea and desire to faint, he allowed the female to wrap the bandage around his chest, stopping the flow of blood and preventing further filth from entering the wounds.

"We must away," he said, nodding in the direction of the great city that could be seen in the distance while the Lady tied the bandages. "Wild animals come to blood."

The eyes of the two hand maidens went wide at the mention of further beasts, and they looked around frantically, as if expecting a pack of wolves to bear down on them at any moment. It caused a light smile to spread across his face, although he fought back the desire to break out in laughter – it would do more harm than good to joke with those females, at least at the current time.

Picking up one of the two blankets he owned, he quickly placed the few things that his backpack had contained within them, and rose to his feet. The world was unsteady, but he managed to keep his balance – and that would suffice for now, as long as it meant they could begin moving. However, his change in terrain level allowed him a better view of the path to Minas Tirith, and he blinked, wondering if his mind was creating the clouds of dust and horses he saw moving towards them.

However, if one should judge from the way the two handmaidens leaped to their feet and started hopping up and down, shrieking something that he did not quite understand over and over as they waved their arms in the air, he was not the only one seeing the horsemen. Guards from King Elessar's court, he decided, as the horses finally drew near enough for the white tree on their chests to be visible. He recognized it from when King Elessar had been in Leglas' forest, as the escort had worn the same type of armour.

However, as the riders moved closer to them, the dark elf realised that he was leaning more and more onto Lady Arwen as his own balance was failing and flashes of darkness began invading his vision. By the time the horses finally reached the four, his bloodloss was finally kicking in and he had moved to the ground, preferring to sit down in case his mind should blank out completely. And so, he was grateful for the help of the guards as they aided him in getting up again and onto the back of one of the horses. Lady Arwen and the two hand maids were talking, although he was unable to understand what they said, but he did understand the meaning of their words, especially as a gentle hand stroke his arm and he forced his lids open, his eyes focusing on the weakly smiling visage of the wise Lady Arwen. Even if he could not understand her words, he understood the look in her eyes. He was safe now.

With a sigh, trusting the Lady fully, he allowed his self-control to slip and finally dropped into the darkness that promised temporary peace. 


	17. Chapter 17: Welcome to Minas Tirith

**Chapter 17: Welcome to Minas Tirith**

The light shining through the window seemed unnaturally sharp, even despite the thick curtains covering the finely made glass. It was a side effect of having been unconscious, he knew, along with the strange pain it was just to emerge from those blissful depths and embrace life around him. His back was throbbing, although the subdued ache told him that he had been slipped some type of numbing concoction while unconscious. Forcing his eyes open, blinking a few times to let them adjust to the light, the dark elf found that he had been placed in a small, yet cosy chamber not quite unlike what he had stayed in while in King Thranduil's realm.

"Good to see you've decided to stay with us, Mel," King Elessar's voice came to him, although a gentle hand on his shoulder prevented him from trying to move from his current position on his side.

The King smiled down at him and sat at the edge of the bed.

"I was slightly worried that the potion the healers gave you to keep the pains dulled was too strong," the King said. "So I'm pleased to see you awake after so relatively short time. And you have my full gratitude for having saved my wife from that bear. She told me everything that had happened when you all were brought back."

"She well?" the dark elf asked, his mind clearing more by the moment.

"She's fine. Which is only because of your timely appearance – even despite her being an elf, I fear that Imladris has not had its share of natural dangers for her to learn to see the signs of wild animals moving around nearby," King Elessar replied with a smile and placed a hand on the dark elf's forehead to check for fever – one of the signs that the wounds could have been infected. It made sense, of course. The potion he had been fed would naturally kill any pain an infection would cause, and thus it would require someone else to determine it.

"Takes time to learn," came the elf's reply and, to his surprise, found he had to suppress a yawn.

"Still tired?" the kind King asked, his smile fading just the lightest. "You lost a lot of blood. I would suggest you try and rest as much as you can in the next couple of days, both to let your body regenerate the blood, and to let your back heal. The cuts were not deep, but they can leave nasty scars if they are stretched too much."

The dark elf snorted: "I've had worse," although he did not further argue.

With a pat to his shoulder, the King rose to his feet and, telling the dark elf he should get all the rest he could, left the chamber.

The dark elf moved slightly, placing himself more comfortably, although he took care not to disturb the wounds on his back, and gave a brief glance around the room – or at least what he could see of it from the bed. It was a fairly simple chamber, obviously designed for housing temporary guests, and contained little more than a bed, a chair and a closet. The door to the closet was half open, and allowed a glimpse inside. Someone had apparently unpacked most of his belongings and had placed them there – which he did not mind. It was not as if he carried around a terrible lot, not to mention anything that he preferred to keep private.

As if these northern people would understand the purpose of half of them, he thought to himself with a light smile. Reaching up with a hand, he gingerly ran his fingertips over the medallion still hanging around his neck and felts its comforting warmth. He could not help but feel the now usual twinge of guilt, knowing that he had given Leglas a half-lie when their roads had parted. But could he have told anything, and not be banished or killed for it?

With a sigh, once more reminded of how little he actually knew of the customs in these parts, even despite having spent nearly two years here, the dark elf turned his gaze to the window and wondered how the view over the city might be. He had wavered between consciousness and unconsciousness on the road here, and he could recall a few flashes as the guards had, in full gallop, brought him and the three women to the central palace. Once his back had healed, perhaps he could go and see it…

A light increase in the warmth from his medallion came as a reply, and a light smile crossed his face. She would like to see the city, too…

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A/N: Who is "she"? What is it that Mel has not told about? Review, and you will find out...  



	18. Chapter 18: Nightmares

_A/N: This is perhaps THE most important chapters of all to understanding Mel's personality, his history, and his looks. A lot of things are explained here…._

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**Chapter 18: Nightmares **

At first, he didn't recognize the area he stood in, although some small part of his mind told him he ought to know it. Then, it struck him like a bolt of lightning from a clear sky; his home village. Nestled in a small valley, taking shelter from the icy storms that blasted across the tundra from time to time, lay the small, thick-walled houses. However, these two months a year were quite warm and the storms turned to welcomed breeze of cooler air from the sea.

He saw Her, of course. His beloved Arinell, her white hair sparkling in the light from the moon above them, and her blue eyes holding that all-too familiar sparkle of mischief that had ensnared his heart from the very beginning. Of course, their relationship had been judged as a dead course by the Enarii Clan leader, but people had no objections about them, and, in their own words, would rather 'let the children play and wait for them to grow up on their own'. Nearly fifty turns of the year had passed before people stopped saying so and instead accepted the mix between a pure-blooded Clan member and one of the bastard children of that strange, northern Shaman…

They had awoken early in the morning, before the sun had managed to fully rise, and had raced to the shore. It had been their special time of the day; before everyone else woke up, the two seemingly had the entire world as their own. They had raced, as they had so many times before, to see who could make it to the shore and their morning bath first. They had made love on one of the large rocks that lay some distance into the ocean, before swimming further out, playful as the seals that passed by twice each year and feeling the sheer joy of living.

It was an odd feeling, seeing it all replay as he seemed to float above it all. They were fond memories, and he wished that he did not know what would happen next…

Arinell was calling his name as he swam, alerting him to the time before she turned and heading back towards the shore. She was a faster swimmer than he, and turned again and again as he tried to catch up with her, teasing him. She never noticed the fish behind her…

Highly poisonous, it was a feared creature by all in the Clan. Its poison killed a person within a few days, but the worst was the acidic consistency of the poison itself. It burned the flesh and nerves, causing unimaginable agony until the body simply collapsed under the pain and the soul faded in death. He heard her scream, the memory burning bright like a torch within his mind, and his dream-self screamed with her. Fresh pain assaulted him as he recalled the desperate run through the water, the way she clutched his arms as her shoulders convulsed with pain. The poisonous spikes of the fish had dug deeply into the skin of her back, injecting its poison straight into her spine.

She tried to be brave, tried to bite back the sobs and wails of anguish, although she could not. Her body trembled as the poison ate its way through her body, and steadily increased the pain. There was no cure. Some had tried lowering the afflicted into warm water, hoping the temperature would ease the agony, others had tried a mix of herbs, but no matter what, nothing except unconsciousness brought solace against the pain as the poison did its job and killed the person.

He had not been able to bear it, bear the thought of his beloved Arinell in such anguish. She had pledged him, knowing fully what lay on his mind. One of the hardest thing in his life had been to pull his knife from its scabbard that day… It had ended the life of hundreds of wounded animals, bringing them a swift and merciful death. And now, it would grant another one, a quick escape from the pain that wrecked her form.

He had whispered his apology as she clutched his hand, guiding it over her throat, aiming the tip of the knife for him as tears blurred his own vision. No torture later in his life had compared to what it had been to press the blade down, severing her windpipe and cutting through the bone of her spine, destroying nerves and bloodvessels, bringing a near-instant death. A look of peace had filled her eyes as the knife slid in, its sharp edge cutting the nerves bringing the agony from her body to her brain, and she had briefly clutched his hand as her love shone within her eyes along with her thanks.

As her eyes slid close, he had felt it. Travelling up the knife, it ran over his arm as fast as fire in dry grass, spreading to every limb of his body within seconds. His entire body felt ablaze, and he was barely aware of the scream that escaped him. There was pain, unimaginable pain, but at the same time, a feeling of security, of warm arms embracing him and supporting him through this.

How long it lasted he did not know. Even within this dream, the feel of it all was as clear as had it happened but a few minutes ago. All he knew was that it was fading, turning to a mild warmth in the medallion he always carried, and he woke to the sound of voices all around him. The Clan had found them.

Regardless of what sympathy he did gain from the others of the Clan, the support he was given from friends and relatives through the harsh time after this, he had broken one of the most sacred laws of the Enarii – he had killed another member of his Clan. True, it could have been overlooked. And it was, seeing as the strike had been born out of compassion, but the Clan leader became frightened.

He had never told them that Arinell's spirit had not left the mortal plane. He did not tell them that he could sense her presence within his medallion; a light warmth or a whispered voice telling him that she had not left. But it changed him none the less. The closeness of her soul seemed to merge his looks with hers, changing his hair from brown to the strange, almost glowing, white colour that had characterised his beloved, and his eyes, too, changed from their usual grey to blue.

It had scared the Leader. Frightened all of them. And when the two lovers found that their combined spirits produced enough energy to create fire, it was the final straw. He had been banished from the Clan, given his few belongings, and sent away to the North with the message to never return….

With a gasp, the dark elf shot up in bed, immediately giving a groan of pain as agony shot through his back. However, the memories were still fresh within his mind, and the pains of the wounds caused by the bear were nothing when compared to the pain it had been that day near the sea…

A gentle warmth shone from his amulet, and he could feel her arms wrapping around his soul, soothing and calming him. It was a memory, she told him, but it was centuries past. He ought to try and sleep some more, and she would sing him to rest.

Taking a few, steadying breaths, wiping sweat off his forehead, he lay back down – careful to avoid disturbing the wounds further – and fell into a dreamless reverie, guided by the gentle voice of his beloved singing to his spirit one of the songs they had learned as children… 


	19. Chapter 19: Mel, meet Minas Tirith

_A/N: Sorry about the lateness. My wrist is healing well, and I can now type without being in agony constantly. I'll try to get ahead with the story a bit, and see if I can manage to make an update each week. Don't forget that I'm a review whore, and every single little word in the reviews pleases my plotbunnies to no end. _

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**Chapter 19: Mel, meet Minas Tirith  
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4 days passed, in which Aragorn ordered the dark elf to remain rest as much as possible to at least let his wounds heal enough that they would not burst open constantly and to regenerate part of the blood he had lost. Although Aragorn himself was busy with the various tasks that he had to take care of through his role as King, Arwen did not suffer from such and took her time to talk with her dark saviour, helping the foreign elf to brush up on his Common and to teach him about the city. The evenings were often passed within the adjoining suite next to the bedroom which had been assigned to the visitor, where the King and Queen would sit and hear stories from around the world, and of what had passed since they had left Mirkwood.

Needless to say, both felt sad to know that Legolas and Mel had broken paths, even though the dark elf would not go into detail about the reasons for why they had gone in different directions, but merely said that Mel's presence within Mirkwood had caused too many problems.

On the fourth day, Arwen deemed Mel steady enough to venture further outside his chambers, and showed him part of the large complex the Palace of Minas Tirith made, and, on the fifth day, brought him to see the city. As usual, and especially in reminiscence of what had happened last time she ventured out with nothing but her handmaids, three armed guards followed the Queen everywhere she went along with her two handmaids, disrupting every ounce of privacy she might have had and ensuring that everyone near knew that she was going for a walk.

As could have been expected, Mel immediately became a centre of attention, causing not a few people to turn around to look, and silenced many conversations temporary as the small group passed through the crowd. Many rumours had leaked from the castle, telling of the King and Queen's strange visitor, who had been brought in – wounded – after valiantly having defended the Queen against a wild bear. Of course, some of the rumours were more exaggerated than others, and added everything from a pack of hungry wolves instead of the bear to Mel being an Istari to the story.

Smiling, happy to see that the dark elf was completely ignorant of the looks he was given – a testimony to the fact that he was clearly used to be out of the norm – Arwen dragged him to one of the shopkeepers who dealed in a wide assortment of small daggers of different designs and lengths. Soon, the two were chattering and laughing as they ventured through the city, picking up things here and there from the many shops that filled the White City, and the maids carried many small boxes with spices, silks and other fine wares, as did Mel. Being Queen, Arwen did not need to carry anything, nor was she allowed – to her dismay.

However, their peace was quite suddenly interrupted when the elven woman caught sight of a man pushing his way towards them and past the guards. Before she managed to ask what he desired, the man had grabbed the collar of Mel and was giving the dark elf a light shake.

"I know your plan, foul demon!" the human shrieked, oblivious to the surprise of the guards and the confusion his actions caused, and waved a short knife at Mel's face. "I know your plan! But I will not allow you to kill our King and Queen, orcling!"

The armed guards stood, clearly torn between protecting the friend of their Sovereign and risking injury to the same person due to the human's closeness to Mel, and hesistated in moving in. Their aid was not needed, it turned out, as, before the crazed human managed to strike, Mel's hand shot up to grasp the human's wrist. Almost faster than the eye could see, the man's arm was twisted, forcing his body around and his hand opening so the dagger fell, harmlessly, to the ground. Within a single second, the male was disarmed and held in a tight grip from which he could not bring damage to anyone, although he was still hissing and cursing the elf, claiming that the dark elf had summoned the bear and following taken damage to be allowed access into the castle – all with the intention of spying on Minas Tirith and claiming the throne after disposing of the King and Queen.

Now that the main threat had been taken care of, the guards broke out of their mild panic and one of them immediately took over the swearing man, dragging him off towards the castle's dungeons in which he, hopefully, would be able to regain some resemblance of sense. Swallowing, Arwen turned her gaze to the dark elf and prayed that this whole situation had not affected him too much. To her surprise, Mel looked more thoughtful than dismayed.

"What did he say?" Mel asked with a blink, looking at the other elf. "I did not understand his words."

"He… did not say any nice things," Arwen replied, remembering that the dark elf's skills in Common were only few, and his vocabulary mostly limited to everyday things, and also took care to speak slightly slower than she usually did. "He said that you were the one who lured the bear to me, so you could get into the palace in order to kill Aragorn and I."

Mel blinked once more, surprise replacing his previous confusion.

"What a strange person," he finally stated, looking in the direction his assailant had been dragged. "I climb wall, if get in unwanted. But not be hurt by bear. Strange idea that man has…"

"That's only too true," Arwen chuckled, glad that her friend had not taken the whole thing too much to heart, and, not long after, the whole situation seemed oddly distant when Mel grabbed her hand and pulled her in the direction of a cloth trader which had a specific colour of silk the dark elf was certain would look wonderful on the Queen… 


	20. Chapter 20: Journey

_A/N: We're doing a mild jump in time… Going from autumn to spring. So wind your clocks forward once more.  
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_As always, I don't really own anything in this story aside from Mel and Legolas' slightly strange pet. _

_A quite serious attack of homework (new school started), troubles sleeping and overall stress combined with my muses suddenly going on strike resulted in most of my free time for writing suddenly vanished… Life isn't good at the moment, so accept my erratic speed in updating, please. Chapter is short, but, hopefully, we'll have old friends meeting again very soon._

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**Chapter 20: Journey**

The horses trotted tirelessly on, none of them complaining over the carts that they were pulling, and the elves followed the sturdy animals with their own packs. Legolas had to admit that despite all the preparations, he had not quite expected this much to have been considered necessary to start a new colony. But, he concluded, with this amount of gear they brought with them, they would most likely not need many trips back to Greenwood for things that had been forgotten.

Looking to his side, where Taratoun faithfully trotted alongside Arod, carrying a bag of her own on her back, he could not help a light smile. Even though he at times questioned just how much of the big spider's intelligence that was in fact instincts, there were no doubts as to the fact that she, too, looked forward to see the new colony. At least, the elf thought to himself as he looked ahead again and saw the first, blooming trees of Ithilien, they arrived in Spring instead of winter, meaning that they would have three full seasons to settle in and get everything finished before the cold would claim the lands.

Of course, Gondor had a milder climate than the northern end of Greenwood, but Legolas still knew that the winter could be as harsh here as it could further north. But, now it was time to merely enjoy that they had finally arrived, and begin setting up their new homes….

The few carpenters who had spend the last season within the half-finished village welcomed them happily, more than pleased to see familiar faces once more. And, as Legolas looked around, he found that he was surprised with the speed with which the talans had been completed – the last report he had received told that most of the homes could be settled in, but the roof was missing on some, and only a few had been connected with each other. This, however, was a near-completed village, and the carpenters had even had time to decorate the talans with different motifs.

It was an odd feeling to him, knowing that this was HIS colony. That all the people who had come here had done so because they had faith in him – because they trusted him as their leader and believed he could accomplish the goals he had made. For some strange reason, it terrified him more than the prospect of going against Sauron himself had been those years ago when the War of the Ring still went on…

Shaking his head lightly, he smiled at the memory of how Aragorn had been wandering around, muttering and wringing his hands nervously the day before his coronation. At that moment, he had not quite understood the human's nervousness, but, now, found that he felt like doing the very same, and he suddenly wished Thranduil had joined him and could have guided him in these first frail weeks. At least the King of Eryn Lasgalen – which Greenwood affectionately was called in the elven tongue these days - had taken care to prepare his son for the task, ensuring that Legolas knew everything that was to know about ruling a kingdom – including the need for documents, setting up trade routes, and, probably one of the most boring things Legolas had ever known about, negotiations with neighbouring people.

Taking a calming breath, he dismounted Arod and walked the final paces to the first tree marking the colony's beginning, bringing behind him a group of elves that would from this day forth look to him for guidance as they had to his father before… He just prayed he would manage to live up to their expectations.


	21. Chapter 21: The Woes of Kingship

_A/N: I'm dreadfully sorry for the delay between the last update and this one, but my days are currently so sufficiently stressed that I have only little spare time each day, and, currently, I'm pouring most of that free time into the creation of an original novel for the intention of being published._

_I have many ideas for Someone To Name Friend, and this story will NOT cease being updated. I'm just very hung up at the moment with lots of things…_

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**Chapter 21: The Woes of Kingship**

Aragorn kicked open the double doors, the sheer force of his action causing them to bang against the walls and fall shut behind him as he strode in, tore the finely made crown of silver from his head and threw across the room – somehow managing to land it on the small couch – before falling, face-first, onto the bed with a groan.

"Hard day?" Arwen asked, looking up from her embroidery from where she was seated in her rocking-chair near the small fireplace adorning the Royal bedroom.

"My advisors are trying to kill me. I know it!" came the King's muffled reply from somewhere beneath the pillow he had pulled over his head. "Trade agreements, peace treaties, petty quarrels – they just wait for me to kill myself out of boredom!"

"I'm certain they're just doing their jobs, but forget that their king is a warrior," Arwen offered, putting aside her handwork and rose to her feet – with some difficulty due to her now-cumbersome stomach – and walked to sit beside her husband, gently rubbing his back and easing the tensions in his neck.

They sat so for a few minutes, before a gentle knock fell on the door, and, at the Queen's answering call, opened and Mel walked in. Smiling, he moved to the two, holding a cup in each hand, and offered one to Arwen, and, after Aragorn had managed to turn around, handed the other to the King. Grateful, both the royals inhaled the soothing aroma of each tea – specifically mixed for them, they knew – and drank from the cups.

"So, how are your lessons going?" Arwen asked, motioning for the dark elf to sit down on the chair standing near the grand bed.

"Quite well, my lady," Mel replied with a smile. "Master Erestor is most patient with me, although I still lack words from time to time."

Aragorn gave a snorting laugh, as Erestor was not usually known for his patience. After Elrond had left Rivendell – along with most of the inhabitants of the valley – the grand libraries he had kept had been moved to Minas Tirith and added to the meagre collections there. And, dear old Erestor, one of the few elves who had remained behind, had promptly moved to the city as well, claiming that he would never leave those books out of his sight if he could help it, and in particular not when it came to whimsical humans rebuilding after Sauron's forces, and thus with barely no time at all to go through the quite complicated task of preserving a library. Which meant that when one of the shipments from Rivendell had arrived, so had Erestor; and the once-Chief advisor of Elrond's household had immediately settled down, barricading himself behind books, and allowing only Glorfindel – who had come with him from Rivendell, seeing as Elrohir and Elladan were doing a quite fine job of keeping the valley secure on their own - to pester him.

It had only been when Mel had praised his skills as a scholar and displayed an almost unnatural interesting in the vast library, and had mourned his inability to truly enjoy the writings held within, that Erestor had – on his own, even – offered to teach the dark elf to read and write Westron. Although Mel still spoke with an accent, and remained confused over the meaning of a good deal of words, it was obvious to all that he found it a great relief to be able to communicate more fluently with the inhabitants of the city. Aragorn still kept his initial suspicion of the dark elf understanding far more than he let on, though, even if he had never any reason to complain about anything – Mel had taken a liking to the royal couple, and had begun following like a faithful, self-appointed guardian, in particular after Arwen's pregnancy had been discovered.

Arwen smiled, draining her cup, and rolled the last of the liquid around in her mouth, enjoying the taste of different spices and herbs, of which she could only name a few – even despite being Elrond's daughter – enjoying the relaxing effect it had on her body. She knew, too, from what Mel had told her, that it supplied her with different minerals that were healthy for the development of her child. Aragorn's tea contained different herbs, and was currently one of the few ways in which her husband could relax properly – although she had a strong suspicion that it was more due to the warmth of the tea, the time of the day and the surroundings in which it was served.

"You know, Arwen…," the King slowly said, holding up the mug and looking at it as if he was trying to turn it into glass. "Once our child is born, maybe we should go visit your brothers in Rivendell. I think it would be healthy for us… Would you join us as well, Mel?"

"I would be delighted," the dark elf replied with his usual kind smile, and took the two empty mugs. "But I think I will bid you good night. I have promised to start early tomorrow."

With final wishes of a pleasant night, Mel left the Royal bedroom, and the two others prepared themselves for sleep. 


End file.
